Thievery
by Testorshia
Summary: She didn't belong there...on the contrary, maybe she did. An accomplished bar owner, gambler and ladies man, Remy LeBeau meets someone who may just rival all his talents as well as make off with the biggest prize of all.
1. Chapter 1

Thievery*

*Based on my one-shot Thieves in the Night. I liked it so much, I decided to make a whole story out of it. Who'da thunk?

I don't own the Marvel characters (though that would be awesome).

Chapter One: Goddess at the Guild

The cards were literally burning a hole in his hand. He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the table. His auburn hair fell into his eyes as he rested his chin in his palm in an expression of faux boredom. He knew it was pissing his opponent off, as the gruff man grumbled and growled under his breath.

"Mon dieu, Logan I don't have all night," he smirked, yawning.

The stout man across the table flipped him the finger as he placed his cards on the table with a triumphant thump. Straight flush with 6 of spades high. Remy smiled, and shook his head, laying flat his royal flush with a sigh. His nonchalance made the wolverine growl and pound the table.

"Y' cheated! Y' always cheat Remy LeBeau! Never in yer stinkin life have y' ever played it straight!"

"Mon ami, I'm wounded. What would I cheat for in a game between friends?" the Cajun grinned, raking in his 50 dollar win. "Besides, this is just the warm up before the real game tonight, non?"

"Y' goin out again? I'm tellin y' LeBeau, one day you're gonna swindle the wrong man."

Remy smiled that winning smile of his, red eyes gleaming mischievously, "It ain't happen yet mon frère, but if it does I can protect myself." He collected his cards with a flourish, his flush clearly illuminated in red energy.

* * *

The Gambler's Guild was unusually packed for a middle month night. Tuxes and ties, jeans and trousers, all kinds were allowed in, for the right price. Remy slipped in unnoticed and seated himself at his usual table in the back. Shrugging off his duster and hanging his hat off the arm of his chair, he pulled out his favorite pack of cards and began to shuffle, patiently waiting.

Very few gamblers ventured into Gambit's den. It wasn't fear of him exactly, but any man rewarded the back slot was either a blood relative to the founder or a damn good gambler. In Remy's case, it was both. He sighed as he charged his cards absent-mindedly. Maybe he should've come in disguise; brown contacts, no duster or hat. Sometimes he craved being "normal." To be able to not feel he was different with every turn of every day. But then again, his unusual looks and charm had gotten him very far in life…At least with the women.

He ordered a beer from a waitress and watched people while he waited for a challenge. His eyes could easily find the new comers; their poker faces were terrible, their tells could be read by a blind man in the middle of the night. The older ones, the more experienced players could mask better, and usually did. The ones who'd already lost way more than they should've been betting were sweating like sinners on Sunday, while the fat cats who were high rolling were ordering more drinks, more cigars, and more girls.

He saw a man pat a woman on the rear with affection, a couple. A pang of loneliness stung him from somewhere deep inside. Sure, he never wanted for female company, but it never seemed to be the right kind. Rebecca, Savannah, O'Hara, Lyric…they all seemed perfect in the beginning, but over time nothing ever came of it. Their jealousies, their insecurities, their lack of interest in his life became a bore to him.

The air changed suddenly; it became humid and electrified. His red eyes caught her blue ones and from then on, he knew the night was going to go much different than he thought. Her petite feet were in a pair of black and white pumps. Her dewy, ebony legs seemed to go on for days until he noted her upper thighs covered with tailored black shorts. Suspenders went from her waist to her shoulders over a crisp white shirt, her ample breasts seeming to strain inside the fabric. Her face…left him without words. Prettily bowed lips were tinted pink under a delicate nose. Her blue eyes were framed by long, beautiful lashes. Most striking was her hair, which fell in waves and waves down past her waist in white silk.

The men in the room took note, most falling over themselves to offer her a seat. Graciously she declined most of them, instead asking for a free table. Remy's luck was good that night; his was the only free table available this time of night. He took a hearty swig of his beer and stood as she approached, extending his hand to her. She smiled and took it, her small hand fitting perfectly in his.

"Mademoiselle, my name is Remy LeBeau, and it would be my pleasure to play you in a hand of poker."

"Mr. LeBeau, call me Munroe," she answered politely taking her seat across from him. "It would seem you've had a bad night."

"Perhaps my luck has changed, non?" he grinned, placing the shuffled deck in her hands.

She easily manipulated the deck between her fingers, "Perhaps not. I should warn you Mr. LeBeau, I'm no light-weight player."

"Then this should be very interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Diamond Rings and Chardonnay

The Gambler's Guild was lively with the sound of shuffling cards, drinks pouring and people laughing, but at the back slot an intense, silent stare down was happening. She couldn't tell if he was bluffing, but then again, he couldn't tell if she was either. She took the time as he contemplated his hand to admire him. He was peculiarly handsome. Rugged, but soft in a way that was hard for her to explain. His eyes captivated. Whenever he swept his orbs up to her own, the hair on her arms would stand up with static. She'd quiet herself internally, keeping her face calm. He was a pretty face, nothing more nothing less; she'd run into men like him every day and wouldn't be surprised if she ran into another him after she left that night. Of course, she'd be leaving with his money, hell, maybe his pants if he'd be willing to bet it all.

"Are you going to play sometime today, Mr. LeBeau? Should I come back in a week or so to collect my winnings?" she said quietly, resting her head on her arm nonchalantly. Her hair fell a little over her face, and one brilliant eye winked at the stalling LeBeau. He knew he had her beat, sure, but that didn't mean he wanted her to leave his company.

"Cart befo' the horse there, Munroe?" he replied, quirking an eyebrow.

"Not at all; I'm positive I have you beat," she answered, tossing her hair behind her shoulders.

He quietly sighed in disappointment as she pulled out an elastic band and pulled it into a ponytail. She smirked at him and tapped the table twice: a signal she was all in. Remy grinned and tapped in return. He lay his cards flat before her; two pair. Her face showed dejection and a little disbelief as Remy started to collect his ten thousand dollar win. She laughed heartily before tapping politely on his hand.

"Excuse me LeBeau, I believe this is mine," she said, laying her hand down next to his. Three of a kind beats two pair.

She giggled in glee as she opened her oversized bag, revealing a flash of jewelry and men's wallets. His eyes scanned her face as she counted her winnings, placing them meticulously in her bag. The men in the Guild didn't seem too frantic or to be searching for anything, so Remy assumed she had lifted the items before she got here. With a quick zip, his glimpse into her life was over.

She took a sip of her chardonnay, her eyes never leaving his. With her glass half full, she slipped a diamond ring from her right ring finger and dropped it into the glass. As it floated to the bottom she leaned over the table to be eye to eye with LeBeau. Such dazzling eyes he had… The air between them further electrified as he reached up to wipe a small drop of the liquid from her lips.

"Give that back to the brunette with the green eyes, would you LeBeau?" she whispered huskily, her eyes gleaming in the low light. In a flash, she turned on her heels and sauntered gracefully towards the door. Remy sighed. Munroe… He wanted to call out to her, to bring her back if only for a moment, but as soon as he had the thought, the room felt drier and less vibrant. By the time he thought of it, she was already gone.

* * *

She lay in bed that night in a sea of books and documents, her tailored shirt skimming her cocoa thighs. Her hair splashed across black satin pillows, as she reveled in her prizes of the day scattered haphazardly across the floor. Rings, watches, wallets, money… The items themselves didn't fill her with joy. The thrill though, the excitement of winning, of taking gave her a heady feeling. As a child on the streets, she'd learned really quickly how to make things work in her favor, and that usually meant taking things from other people. And then she was "saved" from her life by her foster father. She inhaled deeply, her cinnamon and vanilla incense making her feel light and airy…or maybe that was the chardonnay, she couldn't really decide.

She was never ungrateful to Charles. He'd given her a family where none existed before with his academy for mutants however, she as well as a few others were chosen to be his "children" of sorts. Legally, he was her father until she turned 18. Her as well as Jean Grey and Elizabeth Braddock, her sisters, had become very close in the time they were Xavier's girls. But something never felt quite…right. Sure, she was loved, she was wanted and she was brilliant, but there never seemed to be enough…fun, enough joy, enough excitement in her life since the day she pick pocketed Charles.

She perused her legal documents for the next week, trying to keep her mind occupied before bed. Her father had always wanted her to do something fantastic with her life. Jean was a cardiologist, Betsy was a world-renowned dancer, it was only fitting that as an Xavier girl she be something equally impressive; it wasn't so much outright stated as it was always pressingly implied. She'd wanted to be an artist, to paint her days away, but as with most things she wanted, the dream never materialized. Instead, she mostly dealt with theft charges, assaults and domestic disputes. She tried her hand at the grittier disciplines, but found her sensitivity to be a liability. She took a few more notes before settling all her things into her briefcase for the next afternoon and getting ready for bed.

As she cuddled under her down comforter, her mind drifted to him. The one with the intriguing eyes. Remy. Even with hers closed she could remember their intriguing red on black pattern, their intent way of focusing on her face, the way they lit up when he was amused. Something happened between them, something…different. She sighed and shook it off, urging a breeze from her open window to blow out her candles with the flick of her wrist. He wasn't her type. Even if he was, she couldn't admit that. Hopefully by tomorrow she'd forget all about tonight and do what she always did. Tomorrow she'd be coiffed and in a suit. Tomorrow she'd have lunch with her father and drinks with her sisters. Tomorrow she'd be perfect.

* * *

The Baroness was exceptionally busy that Thursday afternoon; business-men from Arizona in one corner, a women's book club in the other. The bar was teeming with college students scarfing down Remy's Cajun hot wings. He smiled as he inhaled the heady scent of food, liquor and activity. His brother Henri was manning the bar with gusto, impressing the ladies and entertaining the lads. Remy waltzed through the room, easily gliding around waitresses, customers and relative mayhem to reach his office in the back.

His office was done in deep greens to contrast the red of the outside, his desk imposing with its pile of papers, the laptop and his few knick knacks. He opened the curtains to let in some light and soaked it in that this was all his now. Henri had turned his father down when he asked him to own and run The Baroness while he ran off to France to relax with their step-mother Tracy. Remy, however, was more than happy to take on the challenge.

No one had ever really considered Remy the way they did Henri. His brother was taller and built sturdier with green eyes and sandy brown hair. He was raised by their father and step-mother, while Remy was raised on the streets of New Orleans. Henri graduated from college with an architectural degree. Remy graduated bar tending school. Henri was in a committed relationship with Theresa, a beautiful blonde waitress, and Remy was single.

Single…hmm. His mind suddenly turned to that bewitching woman with the white hair. He wondered if she was single too. He doubted it though; looking as she did would warrant all kinds of attention and some man was destined to scoop her up. He sighed with that thought, raking his hand through his hair. Even if she were attached somehow, something about her struck him like lightening to the top of the head.

He whispered her name in the quiet of the morning and wished like hell he'd said something to her, anything at all to keep her from going. When she'd leaned close, his heart slammed into his chest with anticipation. Up close and in the low light she was incredible; her skin was flawless. Her lips slightly quivered when he traced their fullness and in that moment he craved the chardonnay clinging to her lips. He smiled and shook his head, sitting at his desk to begin work. He'd probably never see her again, but when he did…if he did, he wouldn't let her slip between his fingers again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Energy

"'Roey, it's not like it's the end of the world. One lost case out of how many you've won?" Jean asked needlessly as the trio walked arm and arm down the street.

"Thirty-eight," she smiled. "I've won thirty-eight cases."

"Pft, but does that keep you warm at night Ro?" Betsy teased, dancing a few steps ahead of her sisters.

Ororo rolled her eyes, taking Betsy's hand and dancing in the middle of the sidewalk with her. "No, dear sister, but you do!"

The two laughed as they waltzed towards Jean's pick for lunch. Jean was dressed conservatively in a pencil skirt past her knees and a flowing blouse. Her red hair was pulled into a ponytail and her glasses perched delicately on her nose. Middle sister Elizabeth wore tight shorts over lacey black leggings and a tank top barely containing her…assets. Her black-blue hair was held back in a headband, the layers of it making all her movements seem lyrical. Ororo, the baby, was dressed for work in a cream wrap that clung to her curves in a conservative way, her long hair pulled into a tight chignon. Looking at them, you could almost tell the ages and personalities of them.

"Ginger, Fred, let's go! I'm starving," Jean shook her head at her two younger sisters and pulled them into The Baroness right on time for lunch.

* * *

The air was alive with static and heat as Ororo stepped through the oak double doors. Something was here, she just couldn't tell what. She shook off the familiar feeling and followed her sisters to a booth near the middle. A few of the pins in her hair were sticking her, so she released them, errant hairs falling and curling around her neck and shoulders. Betsy was playfully scooting closer and closer to Jean to smush her into the wall. Discreetly, Jean telekinetically pushed Betsy almost off the booth.

She loved her sisters dearly. Sometimes she was shocked that she could feel that way about people or that she could care about them given her upbringing or lack thereof. But as she watched her sisters she was filled with a warm feeling in her chest. Happiness. They glanced over at her and at the same time sprinkled water in her direction. She smirked and pooled the drops together in mid air.

"You two are so childish," she chuckled, replenishing the water in their glasses.

"We just didn't want our weather witch to be all left out," Betsy answered, taking a sip from her glass.

"God forbid. You remember when we were like 14? Betsy and I wanted to go to that teen club in the city and Daddy said we could but you couldn't?"

Ororo smiled at the memory, "The rain happened on its own Jean."

"Sure it did! By the time we get there and got out of the car we looked like drowned cats when suddenly, birds are chirping and the sky is clear," Betsy retorted, sticking out her tongue.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies but I was wondering if anyone had taken your orders yet."

Ororo froze, her breath caught in her throat. Southern drawl, deep baritone with a hint of Cajun spice. She turned her eyes up to his, meeting his warm gaze and smile. Her eyes panicked slightly, but she kept her composure as she motioned to her sisters.

"We've never been here before. What do you suggest Mr…?"

He laughed inwardly at her feigned ignorance. He would never forget a woman like her, no matter how much she seemed to want him to at the moment. He could tell in her eyes that she hadn't forgotten him either and that jolted his confidence up a notch. He'd felt her when she came in, just like at the Guild; humid, electricity positively charged every cell in the room. Men craned their necks, women rolled their eyes. Munroe was in the building.

"Please, cher, call me Remy. What does Remy suggest, huh? How about some nice, spicy buffalo wings?" he grinned, spreading his attention around the table equally, even though he only wanted to behold the one in the clinging cream dress.

Jean and Betsy glanced at each other knowingly. They'd become accustomed to not probing Ororo's mind as she'd grown accustomed to feeling them do it, but this man, this Remy character, boy was he easy to read. They didn't know how he knew their sister, but they could tell that he was totally into her and they didn't need their telepathy to see that. Betsy nudged Ororo's calf under the table with her foot, getting a swift kick to her shins.

"That sounds lovely. Also, is it too early for a glass of chardonnay?" Ororo asked, nonchalantly, her honeyed tone stirring something ever so slowly in Remy's groin area.

His eyes bored into hers for a second before he smiled and bowed gracefully, "Never too early for chardonnay, cher."

Her sisters had never seen her plow through food like she was doing now. Ororo was a finicky eater, and seeing her tear into those wings made their eyes widen in surprise. She couldn't even tell herself what had made her so ravenous all of a sudden. The wings though, dripping in hot sauce and ranch dressing, was curing one of her hungers quite well.

"So…you know him don't you?"

"Know who?" Ororo chimed, slowly swallowing.

"Remy the hot, sexy, spicy, would-you-like-ranch-dripping-down-my-abs-with-that waiter?" Betsy giggled, taking a sip of her ginger ale.

Jean laughed, "Don't be coy Roey, we saw it all over his face."

She rolled her eyes, "Men look at me like that all the time Jean, doesn't mean they know me."

"He sure looks like he wants to _get_ to know you," Betsy winked, resting her chin on her steepled hands.

"Ladies, me pardonner s'il vous plait, is everything to your liking?" Remy asked, quickly sidling up to the table as if he'd heard his name mentioned.

"Sure is Remy, one thing though. What's in those wings that have my sister eating them like it's her last chance buffet?" Betsy asked quickly.

Remy's smile widened, "So you enjoy my cooking?"

Ororo shot him a look while biting into another chicken wing. 'Mon Dieu, she looks sexy when she's eating…' The red-head's laugh broke him out of his thoughts.

"LeBeau family secret ladies, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you." He leaned in closer, his face barely six inches away from Ororo's. Her cheeks flushed as she felt his energy; the fine hairs on her arms stood up as he placed his hand seemingly carelessly over hers.

"I made this batch especially for this beauty here," he whispered, his eyes holding Betsy's, his head tilted towards Ororo. "I soaked them in chardonnay. After all, a woman can never have enough chardonnay…"

"Or diamonds," he and Ororo simultaneously said.

He flashed her a winning smile, "Oui. Now if there is nothing else ladies..." He swooshed off in the direction of a table full of women, most of them eyeing his behind when he was at their table. One of the plainer ones was screeching his name over the din of the other customers and it unsettled Ororo in a way. She excused herself to the restroom to get a moment of clear-headedness.

She sat for a minute or two on the small couch parallel to a full length mirror, coaxing herself in her mind. 'If he wanted to out you, he would've done it by now. Relax.' Her chignon rested limply against the nape of her neck, tendrils of white cascading down her back and chest. She applied some lip gloss as she stood, straightening her clothes and shaking off her trepidation. Stepping out into the cramped hall, she was startled a bit to see LeBeau standing there, but not terribly so.

"How you doin' Munroe? You look as enchanting in the daylight as you do by low light," he drawled, a half-smile finding its way to his lips.

"You tryin to collect on me LeBeau? Come here to break my kneecaps and my back?" she teased, leaning against the opposite wall in front of him.

He shrugged, closing the space between them in two steps, "Depends on what you mean by that, cher."

He rested his palms on either side of her hips leaving space between them, but barely. She inhaled his scent of CK One cologne and cigar smoke and nearly swooned. He watched as she absorbed his being closer, slowly inching his hands onto her full hips. Her small hands pressed lightly against his chest as he drew nearer, his lips barely an inch from hers.

Static suddenly stung him near his shoulders, startling him a step back. Munroe smiled at him, little white bolts of lightening dancing above her fingertips. Remy grinned, snapping his fingers allowing his own energy to rise from his finger tips. Red, glowing, like moth to flame her hand was drawn to his. Their energy crackled between them as they brought their fingers nearer and nearer. Pink radiated as they met palm to palm, and like children they were amazed.

It didn't hurt either of them, but it gave them something…a jolt of energy. They felt healthier, livelier. He captured her hand in his, lightly kissing her knuckles. She brushed his hair out of his eyes with her other hand, resting it against his cheek. Yes, something was quite different about this guy…

He cleared his throat and stepped away from her as someone squeezed between them to get to the restroom.

"You know where to find me, Munroe," he whispered, flashing his most winning smile.

Before she could think of something to say he was out of the hall. He turned to her and winked before heading towards the bar. She smiled and waited a few seconds before going out and back to her sisters. She wouldn't be rid of that red eyed devil anytime soon, and the thought of that put a smile on her lips and a swing in her hips.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: What Do You Do?

"Y' mean to tell me y' just let her walk out on y'? Y' crazy Cajun, what'd y' do that for?"

Remy kept his eyes forward as he did his chin ups, "I…she wasn't ready yet, mon ami. Hell, I wasn't ready yet."

"You?" Logan laughed heartily as he hefted 300 pounds of weight like most men would lift a sack of potatoes. "You are always, always ready, LeBeau. Even times y' thought you weren't, y' were. When are y' gonna see her again?"

Remy rolled his eyes as he hopped down from the bar, "I tol' you already, I don' know where she is."

"Y' ain't get her number or nothing?" Logan guffawed, dropping his weights with a loud clang.

"I'm so glad y' find this to be amusin," Remy quipped, taking a swig from his water bottle.

"I'm sorry bud, I am, but jeez! Yer the ladies man. Hell, back in the day they used to call y' LL Cool Rem," Logan chuckled. "To think now that this one girl's got y' by the balls is hilarious to me kid."

By the balls…Remy groaned and hefted a weight on his shoulders; he was pretty sure the sensuous image he got and the image Logan got were entirely different. "If she wants me, she knows where to find me, non?"

* * *

It'd been a week since he last saw her, and he was convinced he'd blown it. He sat in the back slot doing mindless tricks wondering why he hadn't done something more. Why hadn't he given her his number? Why hadn't he asked for hers? He sighed; he could tell she wasn't the type of woman who was into that. She was a firebird, that woman. She wanted a little excitement, something he was sure didn't come to her life as easy as it did his own. Given her clothes that day at The Baroness he could tell she was a professional at something.

His brows furrowed as he frowned; what would a professional, beautiful woman want with a commoner, a measly bartender? He was a simple restaurant manager. The only thing he was a professional at was thieving and deceiving. He was so deep into his pity party he didn't feel the air change. He didn't notice the subtle pop and sizzle, the humidity in the air…

"Looks like you're having a bad day, LeBeau."

His eyes swept up and found her blue ones smiling down on him. He exhaled and gave her a half-smile, "You could say that cher."

"Maybe a friendly game or two would make you feel better?" she asked, folding herself into the chair opposite him.

"I didn't think you'd…I mean, I…" he faltered as he watched her gracefully take the cards from his gloved hands and start to shuffle, her eyes still on his. "Aces high?"

She grinned, "Aces high."

* * *

Her laugh was musical to him; it filled him with this incredible need to smile and tell her more stories to keep her in such great spirits. The cards had been long cast aside and the two of them now sat in the lowly lit nook sharing hot wings and fries dipped in hot sauce.

"You mean to tell me you ran all the way home in your boxer shorts?" she snickered.

"Oui, during Mardi Gras. The fathers' down south don' take too kindly to their daughters doin' those kinds of things on a balcony."

"I could've represented you; that was clearly a case of mistaken identity," she replied, smiling behind her hand.

"Oh, her père didn't seem to think so," he grinned, taking her hand from in front of her lips.

She cleared her throat and shook her hair off her shoulders, "Okay, now we'll talk serious. Deal?"

He wasn't sure why, but his palms started to sweat a little, "Sure thing femme, anythin' you wan'."

"That thing you do…what is that exactly?" she asked, cautiously taking his gloved hand in hers. She inspected his pale fingertips as she waited expectantly for his answer.

The thrill of her holding his hand made a buzz of his energy flow into her palm. She giggled, "Yes that. What is that?"

"That, ma cher, is kinetic energy. If you wan' I can take you on the roof and show you how it works."

Her eyes lighting up were his answer.

The night was cool for the spring, but he took her hand and guided her up the fire escape to the roof of the building. She sighed at the feel of the night against her cocoa skin. Remy thought that with the tank top and jeans she was wearing she might be chilled, but to his surprise her hand was supple and warm in his.

"Alright, let's see it LeBeau," she challenged, sitting on a crate near the edge of the roof.

The stars seemed to shine brighter with her out here, he thought to himself. Maybe in envy. Remy relished the idea of showing off for her and making the stars even more jealous with the joy he would cause her and her laughing cerulean eyes. He held a card between his fingers.

"Behold, the queen of hearts."

"I can't behold it, its dark. I barely see it," she quipped with a smile.

He grinned and charged the card, making it glow eerily red. Her eyes widened as he tossed it into the air and it exploded like a firecracker, raining energy down on her. She clapped her hands and stood, drawing closer to him. He smiled down at her and placed the ace of spades in her hands. He turned her so that he could be behind her and held her wrists lightly in his grasp. His energy surged up her hands to her fingertips and to the card. She smiled wider, flipping the card through her fingertips. Her eyes gleamed with child-like astonishment, and Remy felt sincerely proud of himself for the first time in a long time.

"This is fantastic but…why doesn't it explode?" she asked curiously, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Well, throw it and we'll see," he whispered in her ear, charging more energy up her wrists.

His stubbled cheek pressed lightly against the side of her neck as she molded further into him. It felt strange, but exhilarating; his energy was like a deep tickle running up her hands. She watched as the maroon swirled and molded to her hands like liquid. After a moment she grinned and threw it high into the air where it burst in a bright yellow ball. She felt his hands at her waist but didn't move away from him.

"And what is it you do, cher?"

She smiled and turned to face him, making sure to not break his embrace. "Watch my eyes."

He laughed inwardly; that wouldn't be hard to do. The air chilled even further as his eyes locked with hers. The boarders of her iris started to turn milky as thunder sounded in the distance. The sudden rain came as a shock to him; the night was perfectly clear seconds earlier. Lightening broke across the sky and webbed above his head, but his eyes were riveted on hers; they were now completely whited over like snow. She smiled and made the sky's light show touch down around them, making the hair on his arms stand up, but he still didn't look away. The rain and lightening seemed to hit everywhere but them; the duo was warm and dry.

As soon as the rains began they subsided; her snowed over eyes became that clear blue again. "That, Mr. LeBeau, is what I do."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Haven

* * *

He'd made him the second he walked into the Guild; the rules were getting slack about who they let in these days. He was wearing a cheap suit and shined shoes. His gun was in a holster he tried to hide under the coat. Remy shook his head as he collected his hat and duster. He'd never been good with cops. They always pegged him for a trouble-maker; sometimes it was true, but then again most times there was never enough evidence. He wasn't going to stick around for them to find any, either.

"Leaving so soon Remy?"

He cursed under his breath as he turned to face the oiled up man, "I've got no business here tonight Officer Reynolds."

"Detective Reynolds."

Remy laughed. Who in their right mind would make Reynolds a detective? The man could barely find his own ass in the daylight with a flashlight, much less anything illegal. But then again he'd found his way here, hadn't he? Joe really had nothing going for him but "fighting crime." His crooked ways had escalated his ego a bit while Remy was focusing on other things, but the man was still the same greasy, slow, mule of a man he'd been before, new title or no new title. Remy eyed the short man and shook his head before stepping around him.

He'd made a fool of Joe Reynolds once or twice. Hell, more times than he could remember. Reynolds and his father had been hot on Remy since he arrived in the city when he was 16. A decade later and they still couldn't get over the fact he'd hog-tied them in the precinct and escaped with no more than a slap on the wrist, courtesy of his father Jean-Pierre's friendship with the governor.

He could smell a bust coming on, and he wasn't going to be around when it went down. Before he could make another step the doors blew open and the yelling started. He tilted his head back in annoyance before rushing right past the little man again and out through the back entrance. Before any of them could follow, he charged a few of his cards and lodged them into the wall, timing them to explode, and collapsing the feeble walls as he made his escape. He grinned as Reynolds bellowed after him, his duster whipping in the wind as he made his way to his sweet escape. He'd need an alibi after all, especially with Reynolds fresh on his tail again.

As he put on his wide brimmed hat he noticed a rumbling in the distance and smiled; he wondered what his belle sorcière d'eau was up to. Rain started to speckle the concrete as he walked on, humming as he made his way to his haven.

* * *

Ororo lay naked on the roof of her building, letting the rain refresh her. Goosebumps rose on her sepia skin as the chill picked up. She hadn't done this in ages, lay bare before the elements. Mostly because there weren't too many elements left in the city, and it looked crazy being naked on a concrete roof during a thunderstorm. She'd been doing a lot of crazy things lately in her spare time. She'd gone to a mosh pit in the underground rock scene, she'd recited poetry at a club on the southeast side, and had recently gotten a tattoo. She smiled, turning on her stomach to let the new ink breathe.

'Munroe' was written in her own curly script hand writing on her lower back. Impulsive, yes, but no one would ever see it…except maybe the guy who went with her to get it. She smiled as she remembered Remy's approving eyes on her back after she'd gotten it done. He'd then shown her the ornate cross that spanned his back and shoulders. She'd asked him why he didn't get a royal flush or something similar on his back and he just shook his head and told her the cards were too predictable.

She'd learned a lot about LeBeau in the past few months. He was a terrible singer; she'd learned that on a date to a karaoke bar. He was an excellent dancer; she'd learned that from a night club downtown. He was Catholic, but attended a Baptist church at least once every three months. He was a damned good cook. But she longed for them to get beyond the superficial, first date jitters. She didn't know how, or even why, it seemed to be so difficult for the two of them to be really in-depth with one another. Sometimes she would get the feeling that he didn't fully trust her, but of course she couldn't be sure; after all, it wasn't like she could say she trusted him one-hundred percent either. Sure she wanted to, but something seemed to be in the way…

She sighed and cleared the sky again, her eyes becoming their natural blue. Sure, she'd been with men before, but none quite like LeBeau. Mutant or otherwise he was a complex character; one minute he'd encourage her wild streak, while the next admonishing her for the same thing. He was strong and silent, and extremely smart. His charm was understated when they were alone together, almost as if he were unsure with her.

Looking at him you'd never peg him for the shy type. His grin was always deliciously sinful, and his eyes teased and tantalized. His auburn hair was always a little scruffy, but still well kept and his cheeks and chin always had a subtle stubble. His hands were large and calloused, but warm to the touch. The thought of his hands alone made Ororo fan herself and shake her head with a smile.

Wrapping a towel around her body, she started down the fire escape and into her room. She rang out her hair in another towel and sat on her plush bed. She wondered why he hadn't tried anything. It wasn't like he wasn't experienced; just look at him. How could he not be? They hadn't even kissed yet; to an outsider their's was a flirtatiously platonic relationship. With that thought she frowned a bit. Who wanted to be "just friends" with a man like LeBeau? Certainly not her.

She pulled one of his sweatshirts over her body and tied her hair up in a couple of ribbons before trekking towards her kitchen. He'd made roast duck in orange sauce with peas, and she'd be damned if it went to waste. A sound in her living room startled her before her eyes whited over and instinct took hold. Electricity rose from her palms as she stood in the doorway only to see Remy sprawled out in front of her small fireplace reading.

"How you doin belle?" he greeted, turning the page nonchalantly.

"Do you know how close you were to being dead?" she asked instead, her eyes returning to their regular color as she came closer to him.

"Ah, you couldn't kill ol' Remy cher even if you tried," he teased, finally putting down the book and giving her all his attention.

"I'm sorry, do you live here?"

"I might as well, non? Ain't that my shirt you're wearin'?" he teased, pulling her down into his lap.

Instead of answering she picked up the book he was reading and started reading aloud. He relaxed his back against a stack of her oriental themed pillows and listened to her silky voice caress every word. He felt warm here, and it wasn't just because of the fire place. The weather witch's apartment had become his solace after long, hard days. He'd be there on easy days too, if he had the extra time. Every room was decorated in different themes, and it always smelled of orange blossoms and vanilla. Mostly though, he'd learned she had become his comfort and his peace of mind.

Being near her had a strange effect on him, a soothing of sorts. Whereas he usually felt he had to turn up the charm, to be so suave in every moment of every day, with her it came natural and he could relax. With her he didn't feel any pressure to have any kind of whirlwind romance; he wanted to take his time and get to know her. As she kept reading his fingers knitted into her lush, wet hair. It shone like silver against his palm and he sighed; everything about her was magic to him.

He pulled her back further against his chest and reveled in how easily she snuggled into him, the top of her head tucking against his neck. He kissed her forehead and plucked the book from her hands. Tonight they'd talk about…everything. He'd been holding back with her, he noticed. Maybe it was fear she wouldn't want anything to do with him. A lawyer and a professional thief…everyone could see how that was going to turn out. He figured though, it was now or never.

He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, "Baby, we've gotta talk about somethin'."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

Thanks you guys for all the support! It really means a lot to me to know that you guys like what I do so much ^_^ so...you know, keep telling me. And now for the good stuff...

Chapter Six: Thieves Wager

* * *

"I don't care or want to know why you're wearing them. I just don't like them on you," she pouted as they walked hand in hand from the movies.

He smiled and laced their fingers, sending a small dose of his energy through her palm, "I wear 'em so I don' stick out so much."

"You're with me LeBeau. And I'm not sure if you've noticed or not," she started, gesturing with her free hand at her hair and face, "but I stick out."

"Y' don' say cher," he quipped, earning himself a quick sting of static.

"Ass," she retorted, leaning closer into him as they picked up the pace.

She'd been so nervous before; nobody wants to hear those three little words "we gotta talk." When he got to the point after a few minutes of rambling, she'd laughed harder than she had in a long time. She's pretty sure she snorted. Twice. He was a thief. After composing herself enough, she told him the truth as well and then the two of them shared a long overdue laugh. Now that those two small facts of life were out of the way, it seemed their relationship had blossomed. It wasn't PDA galore or anything extreme, but now she had the feeling that she _belonged _to him in a way.

The first kiss…it blew her mind. She was a mess in a pair of his sweatpants, a torn old t-shirt and her hair in a chaotic bun at the base of her neck. After a full day at work, a few hours at the gym, she'd been slightly disappointed to get home and see no LeBeau on her couch or hear him in her kitchen. Instead she found him sleeping on her bed. She leaned over him precariously, and was startled as he trapped her in his arms. Needlessly he wrestled her under him, softly touching his nose to hers, the static in the air crackling at their minor contact. His full lips pressed earnestly to hers and she was neurons firing in her mind. Her lips tingled and sizzled against his as their powers ebbed and flowed. That first time, they kissed and only kissed for over an hour. She shuddered to imagine what would happen when-

"Okay cher, how 'bout a friendly wager?"

She slowed her stroll and smiled slightly behind her blush, "I'm listening."

"The name of the game is thievery. Whoever can get away with the most valuable items in fifteen minutes is the winner," he grinned, lightly tugging her to a stop.

It'd been ages since he played thievery, even longer since he played with someone who may have been able to hold a candle to his own impressive talents. He remembered her bag from that first day and knew she was formidable; she'd taken the engagement ring off a woman's finger for goodness sake. After he'd told her that night about his past, and some of his present she laughed the hardest he'd ever heard her laugh. Before she was adopted, she was a professional thief, just like him but better, in her own words. Yes, this would be a healthy challenge and an affirmation of her blatant, though nonchalant bragging.

"What do I get when I win?"

He laughed, "**If** you win."

"When I win, I don't want you to wear contacts anymore. Your eyes are beautiful Remy."

His heart thudded a little in his chest with joy and a dose of bashfulness. Her hair was in a long braid down her back her silver bangle bracelets clanged softly as she pushed a stray hair from her face. There was no deception in her movements, no halting in her words. She meant what she said and it thrilled him something serious. "Vous sont le beau," he answered, trailing his thumb along the back of her hand.

"What's that mean?"

"That you're the beautiful one amie," he answered with a soft tap on her nose. "And as such, when I win the bet, I wan' no more of this," he replied, tugging lightly on her braid.

"No more hair?" she laughed.

"Smart-ass," he shook his head, smiling. "No more hair up. I like it down, like you like me without contacts. Do we have a deal cher?"

She sent a small, pleasing jolt of lightening through his hand, "Deal."

* * *

He watched in amazement as she emptied not only her pockets but her purse and some portions of her bra of spoils, even unbraiding her hair to reveal a silver chain. Rings, bracelets, iPods, money… He had a feeling she could've stolen their food from in front of them and no one would have noticed. His jacket was heavy with sterling silverware, watches and of course money. As a gentleman, he let her count up her bounty first, and it totaled roughly two thousand dollars.

He knew he had her beat; the silver alone would amount to over half of that and yet… He took out only the silverware and a few dollars, giving her a shrug and a smile. She eyed him suspiciously before coming over to pat him down, finding a few watches and some money on his person that beat her winnings.

"You'd have let me win?" she asked incredulously, her fingers hooked into the buckle of his belt. The sensuality of that wasn't lost on him as he pulled her closer by her hips. She smirked up at him, shaking her head in disapproval.

He nodded, "I still will if you let me."

She shook her head more adamantly, "Should've been smarter and scoped out the middle Americans, then you would've came out about equal to me. Instead you went straight for the higher ups near the back and the manager with the pinky ring and leather jacket."

He tilted his head in slight confusion before the light bulb went off: she'd scoped out the entire place in her mind and let him hit the higher ups while she took the easier to get, but ultimately cheaper pieces, making sure he'd win. As she started for the shower he couldn't help but chuckle to himself; there he was trying to let her win at the end of the game, when she'd already let him win to begin with.

* * *

After a quick shower, Ororo was greeted by him sitting on the edge of her bed. He'd taken off his boots and jeans and, to Ororo's delight, his contacts. She wondered briefly about the modesty of her short silk robe before going to him anyway. He smiled quietly up at her as she approached, his hands reaching out and taking her hips. Inhaling deeply, he lightly kissed her flat tummy; she smelled of vanilla and orange blossoms.

He suddenly flopped back and sprawled out, taking up most of the space. She rolled her eyes and climbed on anyway, scooting him to one side; he was such a ham. He obliged her easily, resting on his side and pulling her to his chest. His fingers lightly traced under her eyes and over her nose. She got drunk on the feeling his eyes gave her; her skin warmed and her heart pounded…

She smiled warmly at him, "So…who won?"

In the moonlight her eyes seemed almost endless like a clear blue sky. He tucked some of her untamed tangles behind her ear. The rules were the one who made off with the most valuable items won the game. Sure, he'd brought the most revenue, but she'd far surpassed him in skill. Or had he simply underestimated her? She wouldn't let him let her win, and he wouldn't let her let him win either. His lips were soft against hers, almost like a sigh or a whisper before he answered with that charming smile of his.

"I did. Now shut up and go to sleep."

*Once again...thanks you guys! You rock ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: Bad case of writer's block hit me for a few days and then voila! Thanks you guys for all the support, it really means the world ^_^...

Chapter Seven: Rise of the Storm

* * *

"Had the defendant properly adhered to the guidelines and by-laws of his signed contract, the burglary wouldn't have happened which relieves my client of all liability."

He liked watching her work. She always looked so serious, so sure, so…sensuous. Or maybe that was just to him, but then again he doubted it; a lot of men in the courtroom were glued to her, even when she wasn't saying a word. Her hair was pulled back in her characteristic bun, her tailored pants skimming her curves in just the right way. His eyes could never get enough of her in all her many flavors, but seeing her working always gave him a slight chuckle. How odd her life must be, even to her. She, an accomplished thief in her own right, represented those who did what she did. Most of them though, from what Remy could tell, had far less skill.

Ororo was aware he was watching and it gave her a slight blush whenever she would see him from the corner of her eye, his gaze riveted on her. He was dressed the most laidback, that day in faded jeans, a black t-shirt and his favorite boots, his characteristic smile playing across his lips. She thought it must've been weird to see her working, knowing what he knew about her, but one day a week without fail he'd be in a courtroom watching her do her thing. He winked lecherously at her before walking out. He'd be waiting for her by the elevator.

After shaking hands and sharing small talk for a bit with the judge and her opponent of the day, she started out the courtroom. Remy was preoccupied with a short, greasy man and it didn't seem to be a friendly conversation. She saw his hands twitch, a tell-tale sign of his anger and decided she'd better quell whatever was going on.

"I'm ready when you are, honey," she chirped, easily taking his hand in hers before turning to the little man.

She raised her eyebrow and smirked; it was just Reynolds. He'd attempted to bed her a few times in the past. Needless to say, he always failed and didn't take too kindly to the implication that Ororo was too good for him. Now seeing her with Remy just seemed to make his blood boil. She tugged at her lover's hand, sending light electric massages through his palm. She felt him take a deep breath and smile down at her.

"Alright cher, we can leave now. I've got no time for small business today anyway," he quipped, allowing himself to be pulled into the elevator.

"Nice seeing you again Officer Reynolds," Ororo called.

"Its detective!" they heard him bellow as the doors closed.

They shared a glance before breaking into laughter. Reynolds? A detective? The ruddy little conniver hadn't the sense the Goddess gave him, much less enough to detect anything. Sure, she knew his was a crooked agenda, but as a lawyer she knew her hierarchy had nothing to do with his. If she could eradicate all the dirty cops in the city, she'd be afraid there wouldn't be enough left to protect and serve. In any case, as far as she knew, Reynolds was small potatoes.

"How do you even know him, LeBeau?" she asked, undoing her hair on the ride down. She had, after all, lost the wager.

He smiled appreciatively, reaching over to caress one of her free tresses, "Oh, we're just ol' friends, me and Joe."

"Didn't seem too friendly to me," she answered, shaking loose her mass of waves.

He sighed, pulling her abruptly against him for a kiss. His lips descended on hers like warm honey and tasted just as sweet. One hand in her hair, the other on her backside, he was a man lost in his woman.

"Nothin' to worry your pretty head about amie," he whispered, lightly nipping her lips.

"Even so, you know I'm probably going to worry anyway," she answered, stepping a small distance away from him as the doors opened again.

He took her hand and led her through the lobby, his face proud and beaming. A blush crept up her cheeks; he was proud to be with her and call her his own. She hadn't recalled the last time a man had been genuinely proud to be with her. Her few exes always seemed to be faking it to her. Sure, they liked being with her, but it never infused them with energy. She was a prize to them and nothing more; something to show off to the boys.

Remy never treated her like that, she thought as they made their way for coffee. He'd taken his time with her and waited for the right time to introduce her to his brother, his best friend and his father, all of whom said he spoke incredibly high of her. His step-mother though was a bit tougher on her, with good reason she supposed. She'd been a mother to Remy where other women had failed, reigning in his rambunctious and sometimes troublesome energy and turning into something positive; she'd be damned if some girl just came in and wrecked her son. Ororo could admire that.

She noticed he seemed to be in his head lately, especially now after that run in with Reynolds. His jaw was set, his red eyes set straight as if he were looking beyond everything. She nudged him a bit, and with a few quick blinks, his eyes focused back on hers. She knew he saw how concerned she looked; she'd given up poker facing with him. He smiled wantonly and squeezed her hand, pulling her into their favorite after work coffee bar.

Ororo's back stiffened as she heard the hearty, familiar laugh. She groaned inwardly as her father caught her eye and smiled. She looked from Remy, who was scouting for a booth, and her father, who's eyes bore into her own.

"_Hello my darling daughter. Nice to see you looking so…refreshed."_

She hated the way he talked to her through her mind and how condescending he always sounded, but that never seemed to stop him. He'd just work around her formidable, damnable mental blocks and talk louder and louder. Over time she'd learned to repel his as well as her sisters' mental influence, making her a unique hybrid of learned mutant behavior and mutant genetics. But him being one of the strongest telepaths in the world, and maybe the oldest, he always found a way around and into her mind..._"Hello to you too, father."_

"_Who's this young man? Another…friendly fling of yours I assume. Sweet, naive Ororo...Need we revisit the Forge incident?"_

A pang of hurt and indignation rose in her chest as Remy tried to lead her to a booth. Forge was her first love; he'd meant a lot to her, in her younger days. They were going to be married and he chose to instead drop the bomb that he was only doing it to get in good with her father. Not that he didn't love her, or grow to love her of course, but his inital reason of being with her would've always left her questioning his motives. She'd been devastated; her father knew the entire time and said nothing. He let it go on past the point of hurting his beloved daughter. Ever since, their relationship was turmulous. Her anger was fueling her now so instead of being lead, she pulled Remy towards the non-imposing looking man in the wheelchair.

"Remy LeBeau, I'd like you to meet my father Charles Xavier. Father, this is Remy."

Remy smiled, eagerly shaking hands with the man unknowing of the argument going on between father and daughter.

"_You haven't called in weeks Ororo…"_

"_I didn't wish to speak with you."_

"_Ashamed? You should be. This man isn't fit enough to wax your floors much less be your suitor."_

"_What have you ever known about what was good for me? You only seem concerned with what's good for yourself and your own image."_

"_I took you when the world was willing and ready to crush you underfoot! You should be…"_

"_I didn't ask you for a damn thing Charles! I was perfectly fine on the street where you found me, but you had to make a lady of me. You had to mold me into something I wasn't meant to be to fit your own version of a family."_

"_You're the most ungrateful child! All I did was rescue you from that life and this is the thanks I get for looking out for you?"_

"_I was perfectly capable of looking out for myself when you met me."_

She smiled openly at her beau, but her eyes had stopped lying to him; he knew she was calling it in and that she wanted out. He just didn't quite know why. "Cher, why don't you go to the rest room and freshen up some?"

Something in his eyes let her know it was okay and she gave a grateful smile as she fled. Her mind was five steps ahead of her as she discarded her heels in the restroom and climbed through the tiny window without a second thought. Black film smudged her hands and the front of her suit but she was free and on her way to the apartment, but in her mind she was simply pacing around the restroom; it would take her father awhile to figure out her thoughts were decoys contradicting her actual actions. Telepathic sisters came in handy for those kinds of things.

The sky darkened as her anger bubbled just below the surface, lightening crackling overhead. Tonight would be a storm like no other in this city.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the hiatus guys! For reasons too complex and tiring to go into right now, I was out of comission and now *drum rolls* I'm back! Enjoy! Review me, cause it helps me grow ^_^

Chapter Eight: Telepath Wars over Clean Floors

* * *

"And I tol' y' I'd have your money to y' soon as I get it," Remy's patient voice coaxed, although by his pacing and hands angry twitching, anyone watching him would know otherwise.

He'd been getting a lot of calls from creditors, debtors and the like the past few months. He wasn't sure who was behind it, but suddenly, he had more pressure on him for money from all directions. He couldn't possibly deliver all of it within all the time constraints; it was upwards of a quarter of a million and rising by the day. What he couldn't get over though, was that these same people calling hadn't called for years. These same people he'd done favor after favor for had fallen off his map until…that day with Reynolds and Ororo's father. Then BOOM, he's in the hole. He stared out the window at the aged bricks of the buildings adjacent to the Baroness, running all the figures he could through his mind; no matter what he did, he always ended up owing.

Static encased him as positive ions buzzed in his ear. Her felt her arms about his waist and breasts against his back, instantly relaxing. Her lavender-vanilla scent coaxed a smile to his tired face. "Hello cher."

"Hi baby. How you doin'?"

"Been better, Sugar. Been a lot better."

"Anything I can do to help?"

He sighed, bringing her hands to his lips for soft kisses. "Just stay like this with me for awhile s'il vous plait?"

"Oui mon amour."

Her silence usually unnerved people, but not him. Her silence to him was like that moment between wakefulness and sleep in the mornings. Her silence was a comfort, a warmth that flowed from her energy. Her silence… He sighed and relaxed further, softly squeezing her hands before releasing her.

"I have to come into some money, and I have to come into it fast."

"Are we talking dead relative fast, or shell games on the street fast?"

He laughed, "How much can a man make at shell games?"

"Don't know. But this woman can make upwards of five hundred dollars a night. Would that help at all?"

"Non cher. Dead relative fast. That's how I need the money. They'll repossess Baroness and I couldn't let my pere down that way, nor my brother."

"So what do we do?"

He turned to see her leaning against the window pane, arms folded and blue eyes intense. The "we" caught him off guard.

"It's not your problem 'Roro. I'll come up with it all somehow."

"And somehow I'm not convinced by that. You need a plan LeBeau, and passing the buck until it's too late is just going to wind you in jail," she smirked, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and tilting her head at him.

"Henri and I will just take major pay cuts. Maybe drop a few waitresses…"

"How much in debt are you?"

"Today, two hundred and fifty-three thousand. Tomorrow, who knows."

"And you think a pay cut will…" she shook her head incredulously, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. "I'll be mopping up the kitchen. Come find me when you come up with a better idea, okay?"

She turned to leave but suddenly stopped, turning instead to lay a light kiss on his jaw. Her eyes sparkled up into his with a smile and she was off before he could catch a breath. She was right and he knew it. Drastic steps would have to be taken to save The Baroness, and to find the one responsible for all this sudden interest. Looking out across the bricks, he knew what he had to do, and the more he thought of it, the more his sly grin grew.

* * *

Ever since the Houdini trick she'd pulled a few months back, she'd been bombarded by her family telepathically at almost all turns of her day. A weaker person would turn to insanity and rest, but Ororo had never been a weak person.

_Broadcasting loud and clear for all telepaths to hear. I will not tolerate this onslaught any longer. _

"_It's not an assault on you Ro. Father is worried."_

"_Listen to your sister, Ororo. I just want to talk to you."_

_I wish to speak to neither of you! Do you not understand how glaringly obtrusive and wrong this is? At all? _

Thunder rumbled in the distance as she swept more vigorously, her eyes becoming milky at the corners.

"_For the record, Ro, I had nothing to do with this."_

"_Shut up Betsy."_

_I will not tolerate this any longer. Leave. Me. Be._

"_This isn't over young lady."_

_Charles, I respectfully and with all the love I can muster say screw you._

Red-hot tingles up her spine startled her enough to make lightening touchdown somewhere close. She relaxed as Remy's energy massaged deep into her back and shoulders. His fingertips found her hips and pulled her back into his chest, his warmth ebbing and flowing across her body.

"You promised about that hair, cher," he husked, inhaling her while placing wet kisses along the strong column of her neck.

She easily reached up and released her mane, the waves rushing past her ears and shoulders and all over Remy's face. He laughed, playfully biting her shoulder as he turned her to face him. "I'm gonna come up with the money, mon cher. And you are not going to worry."

"For your sake and my sanity, I hope you're right."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Repose

* * *

"So you're not coming home at all?"

"Baby, we talked about this…"

"I know, but I don't understand why I can't be there with you."

"You, my lovely storm, are the perfect distraction. I need to focus."

"So you're saying' you can't do that with me?" she smiled, resting her briefcase against her hip as she anxiously pressed the elevator button.

Remy had been gone for a few days to New Orleans. What for, she couldn't say, but she knew it had to be something illegal. And fun. He was out most nights, and sleeping most days. This was the first time she'd talk to him before the sun went down since he'd been gone, not that she was complaining. Something in her ached to be near him though she wouldn't ever say that aloud. She'd never…_needed_ a person like she felt she needed Remy. He'd become part of her day; she'd wake up next to him or to his voice over her phone, she'd have dinner with him at least once a week, and the weekends belonged to the two of them.

"I'd be focusing on all the wrong things cher," he answered lasciviously. Without even seeing him, she knew he was grinning.

She blushed, "Remy…"

"I miss you too, Stormy."

"Three more days?" she purred, finally stepping into the elevator.

"Only three. Bye amie."

"Goodbye."

No sooner had she flipped her phone shut did Reynolds rush into the small space. He grinned an oily smile at her as the doors shut. She hated being in confined spaces for too long, and having him in the same space with her just made it worse.

"Ms. Munroe, it's good to see you."

"Hello Detective."

"I noticed your bodyguard wasn't with you today. Law finally caught up with him?"

The molecules in the air charged slightly as her hand twitched, a nervous habit she'd picked up from Remy when he was angry, "I know not of whom you speak as no one I know is on the wrong side of the law."

Reynolds grin widened as he pulled the stop knob, halting the elevator between floors. Ororo's heart began to pound against her sternum, and she could feel her lungs fill with carbon dioxide and not enough oxygen. She was determined however to not let this little man see that, nor intimidate her.

"You know I didn't mean any harm Ms. Munroe, but do you know any reason why he'd run out of town? Maybe some money problems? Someone after him?"

"Reynolds, I've no time for games, and I don't intend to indulge you any longer. Get to the point."

"You're too pretty to be getting fleas from lying with dogs. I know you're a good girl, Munroe and I can…pull some strings. Help you out, and maybe even get LeBeau off with nothing but a misdemeanor."

He'd been so caught up in his schpiel he didn't notice her anger taking over her fear, nor her eyes whitening. She pressed a palm to the side of the enclosed box, the electric current circulating throughout. She heard a cable snap and felt weightless for a few seconds as the elevator fell the two stories to the ground floor. The doors dinged open as static crackled in her wake. Reynolds, clearly shaken stumbled out after her, his ruddy face filled with fear and anger.

"Y-you're a f-freakin-"

"If you know what's good for you, Detective you won't finish that statement. Nor will you threaten me or my associates in any way again. Are we quite clear?" she interjected, swiftly walking away.

"You'll live to regret this Munroe," he called after her, his eyes aflame with hatred as a crowd gathered. They all looked and craned their necks to see the carnage, easily letting the one who caused it all slide effortlessly onto the street. The sun was still shining, but somewhere thunder rumbled; was Reynolds really the cause of Remy's money problems? She shook her head as she put on her sunglasses; only time would tell if her hunch was correct. Until then, it was best not to rock an already shaking boat.

* * *

"Soo…where's the Cajun lover-man?" Betsey teased, quickly clipping Ororo's splitting ends.

"Jean, you're good at being places you aren't supposed to be. Why don't you tell her?"

Betsey swatted her head with a comb, "Stop it. She already apologized. Besides, Daddy was all in our heads trying to inception us. Why don't you and him just fix this yourselves?"

"There's nothing to fix. Father's an ass."

"Ro!"

"He is! All he wants is to control me, to control all of us. He wants a perfect trio of daughters, and he'd have it too save for one black sheep, no pun intended."

"He's not asking for perfection, he's asking for respect. He saved us all from terrible childhoods and I for one am entirely grateful. I'd have nothing if it weren't for him, Ro."

"That is where you and I differ Jean. If it weren't for him, I'd be a goddess. Instead, I'm simply an ousted human desperately seeking to find humanity in others."

"Don't be so mellow-dramatic. It's hard on all of us equally. I wouldn't be complaining about humanity if I had your ass and thighs."

Betsey patted her sister's scalp, signaling she could get up from her Indian-style position on the floor. She stood stretching her long legs in the silence left by her sisters. Left with their own thoughts, she was sure they were all thinking the same things. Life before Charles was hard on them all; Jean was orphaned at a young age, and Betsey was brought up in an abusive household. He'd met them all at very crucial turning points in their lives, and showed them compassion. Anything was possible with him as their father. They went to the best schools, they were easily acquiesced into high society, and he had loved them sincerely and openly.

In Ororo's mind though, something had changed around her sixteenth year. Less and less was her life about her own self expression and her own personal journey, but about the family name, the "image" of Xavier children. In her sixteenth year, she was a teacher at his budding academy for mutants, she attended school herself but was refused a paying job and had to ask him for money. She didn't like the feeling. She compared it to begging, except with shinier words and she was never one to beg and so…

The sound of the front door sliding closed caught her ear and she broke into a Kool-Aid grin. Rushing full speed from the living room she ran into Remy's waiting arms. He laughed, scooping her up by the waist allowing her long limbs to encase him. She inhaled his rugged scent, kissing his cheek, his neck, the sound of their energies greeting one another buzzing in her ear.

"You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow," she murmured into his warm skin.

"How could I be without my belle for so long, huh?" he answered instead, patting her ample bum.

"I missed you more than I should have," she admitted as he let her down, his arms still around her waist.

"Ah, no such thing as missing your man too much amie," he replied easily, his lips inches from hers.

Static fizzled between them heatedly as he closed the space. He nibbled teasingly at her lower lip, his hands lazing down to her backside appreciatively. The sound of two clearing throats halted his hands in their sinfully luscious endeavors.

"Your sisters are here?" he groaned, shaking his head with a chuckle.

"You didn't give me time to say anything," she grinned, lightly pushing him away.

"Hi Remy," the two cooed in chorus, school-girl grins plastered on their faces.

"Hello my belles, how are you this fine evening?"

"A little hot, wouldn't you say Ro?" Betsey laughed, traipsing back into the living room with a smile.

Jean was speechless. She'd never seen her sister act so…freely with someone. Ororo was always regally reserved. Elegantly composed. To see her so carefree and open with someone, much less a man, made Jean's mind reel. Ororo's face was lit with emotion, her body language relaxed and yielding. The hairs on her arm stood up when she saw them kiss as if the room was full of hot, static electricity. This man certainly had worked a spell over her sister, and in a little less than a year or so had become a part of her. Unsure of how she felt, she still put on a smile and greeted him kindly before following Betsey's lead.

"You don't mind if they stay the night do you? I promised them a month ago they could and with you being out of town…"

"Non, amie," he answered, lightly squeezing her hand.

"We're watching "Gone with the Wind" if you're not too tired," she hinted, her thumb massaging the back of his hand.

"You inviting me to a slumber party?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Only if you'll say yes."

He playfully rolled his eyes before placing a soft kiss on her forehead and heading towards the bedroom "Oui, but only if the next movie is "Mission Impossible!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Neige Chaude*

* * *

She was always so damn sultry to him, no matter what she was doing or how she was dressed. Even now, R&B music thumping through the walls of the kitchen he knew she was just on the other side in his sweatshirt and some leggings putting ornaments on her father's tree, her hair in loose curls and a headband humming with her hips swaying. He smiled and shook his head as he pulled his fresh chocolate chip cookies from the oven, marveling at the ease at which he felt in her father's house.

House wasn't exactly the word. Mansion? Estate? Rolling hills and forest surrounded the large main "house" filled with no less than one hundred bedrooms and twenty-five classrooms. A cabin in the wooded area was all Ororo's, while her sisters' enclosures were closer to home, which to Remy was telling of their family dynamic. Ororo had an enclosed garden near the house that seemed untouched by the winter weather, but otherwise was a far walk from the rest of the Xavier clan. A sudden pang of nervousness hit him; this was their first Christmas together.

He hoped he was making a great impression on her family; he was trying really hard. He'd been polite, he'd been cooking, and most important he hadn't laid an inappropriate hand on Ororo since he got there. He still got the distinct impression that Charles wasn't really into him; sure he'd been courteous, but whereas Betsey and her boyfriend Warren could be openly affectionate, every time he'd make a move towards Ororo, the elder man would clear his throat. He'd be speaking about something with her uncle Hank and Charles would interrupt and change the subject to medicine or law, anything slightly out of Remy's spectrum.

"Mr. Remy, come out and see the tree!" a small, blue child yelled suddenly, breaking Remy from his thoughts.

"Alright petite, I'm coming," he smiled, allowing himself to be lead through an atrium and into the living room.

Their eyes caught and warmth filled his heart; she was lifting up a blonde girl with red streaks in her hair to put the final star on top of the tree. Beauty, grace and so much more…did he deserve this woman? Could he ever hope to be everything to her that she was to him? Even now after being with her a year he was still amazed at how much of her there was for him to still learn and love.

"Isn't it the best tree you've ever seen Mr. Remy?" the blue girl asked, running to sift through the mountain of presents already organized under the tree.

Yes, it was the best tree he'd ever seen, and as the children made a halo of tinsel around her hair he thought Christmas couldn't get any better.

* * *

After playing football with the boys, teaching the girls how to bake more of his cookies and talking to Hank about sports and politics, Remy realized he hadn't seen his perfect storm in hours. Pulling on a heavy coat and boots, he slipped away before anyone else could snatch him up for this or that to search for his lady love.

He didn't have to search far; there was an enclosed garden adjacent to the mansion that radiated heat even in the harsh chill of December. African violets nestled against various lilies, Ororo's favorite, and lavender. He didn't know much about flowers, but he knew they all couldn't grow in the same weather pattern; but then again they had a special and peculiar handler. A small cloud of rain was condensed, pressing against the roof of the greenhouse. It followed behind her, bending to her will and sprinkling everything from the bamboo stalks to the small ferns and intricately woven moss and ivy.

"You do amazing things with your talent cher," he said softly, easing out of his coat and boots.

Her misted over eyes smiled at him, "Thank you sweetheart."

"Is it just me or have we not seen much of each other?"

She sighed and thunder rumbled from the little cloud. He moved quickly behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist. They didn't say anything, there was no need. He knew her cues; thunder meant anger, frustration and stress. He held her close and let his energy wrap around her, and waited for her body to relax. He nuzzled into her hair, pulling her hips into his subtly enough to get his fill of her backside.

He felt her catch a moan in her throat as his lips grazed the tender flesh. He'd missed being this close to her, and ached to be closer. Not willing to push or coax the weather witch into anything she didn't want, he'd been holding off on that particular consummation. For eleven months and sixteen days. He sighed and pulled away from her, instead moving to the other side of the atrium of the green house.

"How do you get them all to grow together?"

"Remy…"

"I mean, they're all from different continents non? And these lilies. I've never seen lilies this high, cher."

"Remy…"

He turned finally to look at her and groaned; she'd taken off her leggings, his sweatshirt…White, frilly, lacy things complimented the mahogany of her skin and he suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough air. Her silvery hair curled and fell around her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, but what struck him were her eyes. Misted over in the faintest of blue, they shone like diamonds.

"Mon Dieu 'Roro…"

Her eyes were pleading and soft, asking without words. He took her hands in his, admiring the way their skin contrasted as he laced their fingers. She tugged lightly, backing into a darkened corner where an open futon covered in plush green and white blankets beckoned to them. The little rain cloud rumbled above their heads as his lips finally collided with hers denoting a new emotion; desire. Though the room was still warm, snow began to fall over them…

* * *

Charles had become tired of waiting and started dinner without the tardy party of two, but he couldn't deny that something was amiss. Betsey and Jean sat next to each other, blushing and eating quickly, but he couldn't decipher any of their thoughts coherently. It was in that inane language they'd developed over the years to communicate between the three of them. As he tried to reach his wild middle child he was coming up with darkness. She was somewhere in the area, as was her beau, but she was shielding them…or maybe…

"_Jean, this is nonsense. Where is your sister?"_

_She's safe Dad, don't worry about it. _

_Yeah Pop, let her have a little privacy would you?_

"_What is there to need privacy f-"_

Betsey giggled and Jean's blush reddened her neck. The thought angered and distressed him to the point of nausea. Charles was now convinced he was justified in his actions. Now all there was to do was push further, and faster if he could. The wait was now over.

* * *

Translation: Hot Snow*


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Intensity of Change

* * *

She'd been awake for awhile, but hadn't moved, preferring his embrace to anything else. His hands possessively cupped her backside, pulling her flush against his chest. She smiled as she inhaled his scent mixed with hers and replayed last night in her mind. She sighed and cuddled closer, remembering the sensation of snow melting on her skin.

_Ro, I don't know what you were doing out there, but why is it like 75 degrees?_

_Don't be coy, Jean, you know exactly what she's doing._

"_I resent that! I'm just laying out here." _She chuckled, leaning up on her elbow to look outside at the incredibly sunny morning.

_Pop's pissed though kiddo._

"_He shouldn't meddle where it isn't his concern." _She released her unknown hold on the weather, and watched as the clouds rolled in on their own accord.

_You're not even one hundred feet from the house. How is that not his business?_

"_When you have sex with your boyfriend is it any of his business?"_

_She's got you there Jean._

_Shut up Betsey._

_Don't tell me to shut up because you know I'm right._

_You're not right you're just annoying._

"_Both of you shut up. Listen to me and listen well; Father has no dominion here. He needs to learn how to be a father and not an overbearing puppeteer."_

_You say all that as if you don't love him at all, Ro._

"_I say that as if I'm tired of having my life run for me. I'm nearly thirty and this relationship is the best one I've had all my life. Why? Because I kept him away from Father as long as I could. Any time he gets hold of any man I love what miraculously happens a few weeks later? They break up with me. He essentially picked Scott for you Jean, and Warren for you Betsey. I'm not going to be arranged in a relationship for his benefit."_

Their silence let her know she was proven right. Charles had always been really hard on her and her relationships. Every never heard him say a kind word to or about any of her suitors. She didn't just have to go to school, she had to go to the best and be the best. She didn't have to just be well-rounded; she had to attend the best clubs hosted by the best people. It had been that way for all of them, but whereas Betsey and Jean appreciated the opportunity, Ororo had always wanted to achieve more with less, feeling that the experiences in life were worth more than who they were with.

Remy groaned and rolled on his back, tightening his hold on her waist, pulling the weather witch onto his chest, "Mornin' cher."

"Morning Remy."

She blushed; why was she suddenly so shy? Given everything that happened between them last night, she would think she'd be empowered, maybe even kittenish, but here she was, with nothing to say on Christmas day. His fingers tickled up her spine into her tangled mane, twirling strands between his fingers. His smile made her heart thud against her sternum and her blush increased, knowing he could feel it.

It was his intensity, she decided, that made her so loathe to say anything. He claimed her, over and over and over…seemingly needing no rest. She'd said such things, such dirty things, last night that she'd never said before, but in her defense, his touch made her feel like never before. His hand was heavy, yet gentle, his solid, lithe body like steel wrapped in velvet. Goddess, was he intense.

"Should we get up now? What time do presents usually get opened 'round here?"

"About noon," she answered, her voice sounding tiny and timid even to her.

Sitting up a little, she dusted his auburn locks from his eyes, grinning in delight at their beautiful ruby color, "I…I'm sorry if I sound…I just don't really…I mean you were-" she laughed and shook her head, hiding her blush behind her curtain of hair.

"'s alright cher. Truth be told, I don' really know what to say back to you, but I think that's a good thing."

"I suppose some things don't need to be…"

"Mmhm. And just to be sure…was it snowin' in here?"

She smiled as he pushed the hair away from her face, "Maybe a little. Did it…bother you?"

He touched his nose to hers affectionately. "Non, I quite enjoyed meltin' it with you."

* * *

"…the strangest of lights last night. It was pink in color. Tell me I wasn't the only one who saw it?" Hank asked around the breakfast table.

"I didn't see nothin' Hank," Remy replied, sipping his coffee nonchalantly.

"Nor did I, Uncle. Maybe a shooting star?"

Under the table, her hand was lasciviously placed in Remy's lap. Whatever shyness she had earlier was dissipating now with her want of him. The pink light, as it was being called around the house, was apparently coming from the greenhouse of all places. He'd distinctly remembered his energy illuminating his whole body in red and as he met with his lover, her lightening meeting his fire turned the entire enclosure pink. The energy swirled and swilled around them like liquid, igniting them. To his amazement, the snow she produced would meet their skin and instantly melt into rivers, which they both eagerly lapped up. He cleared his throat, trying to shoo the images away while fighting his growing need for Ororo.

Jean and Betsey were giggling and grinning; surely sharing thoughts with their calmer sister. He'd become accustomed to that side of her, the poised and calmly disengaged Ororo, but the Ororo he knew, the one he loved, was effervescent and funny. His Ororo was kind and sweet, with a healthy curiosity and intuitiveness that made her seem motherly to anyone who knew her. His was a warm weather witch. Her light squeezes upon him made the blood suddenly rush from his head and he couldn't fight it anymore.

He excused himself politely from the table, smiling all around. As he left the dining area, he ruffled one of the children's hair and waved to a table of teenagers. She sighed as her eyes followed him, her knee bouncing with anticipation. What was it about making love with him that made her want to never stop? Was it his ease with children? The kids at the Academy had taken to him like a new uncle of sorts; the girls would giggle and blush in his wake while the guys had taken to mimicking him and his mannerisms so much as using casual French slang. The younger ones, oh how they loved him. He would paint with them, tutor them, and climb trees with them…

She'd thought she'd been in love once, but it never felt like this; this felt entirely fulfilling. Although she'd see him all the time, her heart would nearly burst at the sight of him entering a room. Butterflies would flutter against her ribs when he called to her. And don't let him look in her eyes for too long; the depth, the color…Seriously, she could look at him forever, and wouldn't mind making love with him until the cows came home.

_Jeez, woman, just go get him already._

Jean laughed. _Bets is right, all that lovey dovey in your brain is making us a little nauseous. _

_Speak for yourself! I think it's hot._

_Pervert!_

The three of them giggled, which finally drew the increasing ire of Charles.

"And what pray tell, is so hilarious girls?"

"It's an inside joke Pop; a dirty one at that. Not suitable for the breakfast table."

"Then please, keep it all to yourselves. Ororo, where were you after lunch yesterday? Nobody saw you at all."

"I was tending to my flowers Father. I'd overestimated the gardener's talents with them and a few needed a little more help than others. I'm sure I wasn't too missed."

_I know what you were doing with that…that cretin last night. How disrespectful. How indicative of how he sees you that he doesn't have enough morals to not desecrate you on your father's property._

"_Stop being so dramatic, I've been having sex for years. Besides, if anything he was the one being desecrated. Over and over again, with no complaints."_

Charles cough caught the table off guard, but Ororo simply smiled and excused herself. Before anyone could notice, she was gone. Betsey and Jean kept their eyes down as their father's eyes found them. They knew how he felt about closed-circuit telepathy around him, but had taken to doing it to keep him out of their private thoughts and feelings all the same. What frightened them more than their father was the fact that Ororo's words had suddenly taken root in them. They'd never wanted for anything as Xavier girls. They never had to work hard to be accepted, as they were at the top of mutant hierarchy. They never had to struggle to choose the right path, as their father would always subtly nudge their minds in the right direction, _his_ direction.

The earth trembled a bit under their feet before a loud crash of thunder erupted from the side of the house. The children rushed to the windows to watch red-tinted lightening touch the earth. Snow was melting under the heat from the light show and they all oohed and ahhed. Betsey howled with laughter as Jean blushed a shade or two lighter than ripe tomatoes. Whatever Remy was doing, Betsey hoped like all hell he'd keep it up. Change was good, and it was about time something changed.


	12. Chapter 12

Wow you guys ^_^, thanks for all the love and encouragement! I didn't know what I did was all that great until you told me so, so I appreciate it a lot. 3

Chapter Twelve: Homme Rouge

* * *

She stood on the roof with her new easel, vibrant deep blues and reds mixing together to form her horizon; the easel and high quality paint her Christmas gift from Remy. She wondered why her beau hadn't mentioned anymore about the money; had he found a "donor" of sorts? Did he get it all taken care of like he promised? Without telling him, she had hocked a majority of her spoils, which totaled more than half of what he needed. A quick call to Henri and she'd have the names of the people he owed, and be done with it forever, however, if she knew her man, he'd hate that she did it for him. So she was bidding her time until it came about that she was needed in that way.

She hadn't run into Reynolds since she'd been back, and was grateful of that. Had she, the little man would have a small fire lit under his ass. She was almost one hundred percent positive it was Reynolds who'd called all those loan sharks back on Remy, and ever since the elevator incident, he'd made sure to make himself scarce. Her brush strokes were getting more violent just thinking about it. What vendetta did the little man have that a few years couldn't fix? What was it about Remy that made it so impossible to let whatever happened go? Secretly, she thought it was jealousy, but when she brought it up Remy just laughed.

Her iPod suddenly switched to rock music, prompting her vision of the city to change. The sky became the earth, and she was so into what she was doing she didn't hear the men approaching fast behind her back. She did however feel the tingle of electricity at her spine when they tazed her. Had she been a human, it'd have been enough to cause her convulsions.

Her eyes white with anger, she sent the volts back at her assailants with enough force to send them into the bricks and down into the alley. Taking that as their cue to run, the men fled, but she was fast behind them, descending on air, and riding the winds to take them all down with shocks to their spinal cords. It was four of them to one of her; whoever sent them greatly underestimated her, and she wasn't sure if she should be glad or offended by that. One thing she was sure of, as she was tying them up to interrogate, she would have their head by the end of the month.

* * *

He sighed with happiness at seeing her, her pale mane tied back loosely in a ribbon, and paint splattered across her shirt. Dropping his motorcycle helmet and keys by the door, he noticed four men sitting plaintively on the kitchen stools. He wasn't expecting company, but by the looks of it neither had Ororo.

"Remy, this is Andre, Shawn, Trevor, and Raymond. They were sent here to do Goddess knows what with me. Do you happen to have any insight into what the hell is going on?"

The men sat repentantly sipping her famous chamomile tea, nursing what looked like substantial facial damage. Their ankles were tied securely to the chairs on which they sat, but their hands were left free to hold ice and heat pads, and of course their tea. Even when she was a bad-ass, she was still a nurturer. Remy wasn't sure if he should laugh, or kick their asses further. He noted her dainty hands wrapped in gauze, her knuckles bleeding slightly through the fabric. Her renowned calm belied her anger and frustration, but as far as he could see she wasn't in any real pain.

Still, he took her hands in his and examined them, "That depends, love. Who sent them?"

"Now there's the problem; they won't tell me. I just told them to wait until you got home and I'd let you handle it."

You'd think they were discussing disciplining children at the Academy with their nonchalance. Releasing her hands, he eyed each and every one of the men, his anger growing. He gently patted her on the backside, easing her away from the fridge so he could get a beer; he had a feeling this might take awhile.

"Well, what do you suggest I do, baby?"

"Whatever it takes, Daddy. I'll be on the roof painting," she replied easily, lightly kissing his jaw.

A low moan rumbled in his throat; he'd have to make this quick, he knew what that name implied. His woman needed more than answers, and the rest of what she needed he'd be more than willing and able to give as soon as he was done with these fools. As soon as he heard the window shut behind her, he sat down his beer and cracked his knuckles.

"Well ya'll, it seems we can handle this one o' two ways. One is the fast way, where y' just tell me who sent y' and I let y' go with your lives and very little pain. That one's my favorite. The second, the longer way, is I break each finger, then each toe, then who knows? The longer it takes, the madder I'll get, and the tougher it'll be on y', so what's it gonna be mon amis?"

Their silence gave him his answer. He shook his head as he opened the utility drawer, pulling out a pair of pliers and a hammer, charging the hammer with enough energy to make it tremble. "Well then, let's get started."

* * *

"A finger a piece is all it took," he answered, his hands behind his head. Ororo sat perched on his waist, listening intently as she pushed her hair back.

"And what did you find out?" she asked, pulling her shirt above her head while simultaneously unsnapping her bra.

Remy was amazed at the way it defied gravity and just… stayed there. "Uh… they said he goes by "Homme Rouge", the Red Man from Baton Rouge. So it seems I'll have to make a return trip back home."

She shimmied the thin fabric off her skin, eliciting an appreciative sigh from her man. "When are we going?"

"I said I."

"And I said we," she replied, motioning between the two of them. He stared at her with disapproving eyes, but hers were just as steady. He tilted his head at her, to which she in turn tilted hers.

"You're not goin' cher," he answered, a brow raised and a frown furrowing his handsome face.

"Really?

"Really."

"I can't go?"

"Non, you can't go."

She smirked salaciously, her eyes turning that iridescent, opaque light blue. Thunder rumbled in the distance as she made up her mind to show him exactly how sure she was about going with him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Two Sides to Every Story

* * *

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, yeah, hold on a second," she called from inside the ladies room.

"We ain't got a second femme, we're supposed to be there in fifteen…"

She stepped out in light denim short-shorts and a white tank-top that she was literally bursting from. Logan's dog-tags dangled enticingly down to her belly button and on her feet she had black and white Converses. Her hair was freshly blow dried, but not straightened, giving her a Diana Ross-like effect. He wasn't sure if he'd rather push her back into that ladies room and do things to her, or make her cover up.

"I'm ready when you are," she answered, throwing her tote bag over her shoulder and taking his biking helmet from him.

"You goin out in that?"

"What's wrong with it?" she asked instead, glancing down at herself.

"I mean, cher, that's a lot of leg there…if any more of y' was showin'-"

"Remy Etienne LeBeau, it is ninety-something degrees out there, and I'd look like a damn fool going out in something heavier," she retorted, starting for his Harley and shaking her head.

"But what I'm sayin' cher is these men are gonna be lookin at y' like y' some sort of bucket of chicken, all legs and breasts and thighs."

"Jealousy doesn't become you baby," she teased, straddling the back of the bike easily. "Now c'mon, before we're late."

He frowned as he got on, "If anybody so much as whistles at y'…"

* * *

The red brick warehouse they pulled up to was covered in graffiti, with a few broken windows making it look all the more foreboding. From her tote, Ororo pulled out Remy's staff, pressing the button in the middle to extend it to its full length. He closed it, instead tucking it into his duster while placing his wide-brimmed hat on. His right hand reached back for her and they proceeded to the garage door covering what he assumed was the entrance.

"What's the plan?"

"We supposed to have a plan?"

Her blue eyes widened as the door started to rise.

"Le diable blanc! What a peculiar pleasure it is to see you in my neck of the wood, eh?"

"We'll see how y' feel 'bout that when I'm through tellin' y' what went down with me and my femme, homme," he retorted, leading a wary Ororo into what seemed to be darkness.

Her eyes had to suddenly adjust to bright light, causing them to whiten as she took in her surroundings. It was like a pool hall, she decided, but larger. There were pool tables in the center of the room and a bar off to the left, fully stocked. The carpet under her feet was of the plushest grade and the deepest of reds. She hadn't laid eyes on the disembodied voice, but by the way Remy was tugging at her, he knew his way around the man's lair.

"'s very pretty femme y' got on your arm, there LeBeau."

She finally saw the man as they ascended the stairs, in a booth at the far right, overlooking the entire enclosure. His skin, from what she could see, was completely crimson. His eyes were an odd yellow on black color and he looked to be quite…heavy. She'd come ready to kick ass, but the man was dressed as if he were ready for tea and cookies.

"Merci," she said quietly, coming to a stop just behind Remy at the man's seat.

"And she know some French? LeBeau, y' don't marry this girl, I'mma fin' her somebody down here!" the man guffawed, energetically slapping the table.

She couldn't help but smile. This is the Red Man everyone around here was afraid of? This was the man who's name nobody dare speak above a whisper? She took a seat across from him as Remy calmly stood behind her.

"No need fo' all dat homme. We just doin' some quick fact checkin' before we go and get ourselves into some trouble."

"By all means LeBeau, what's on y' mind?"

She crossed her legs at the ankles and chewed at her lip as the men continued on in French; she loved when Remy lost all the pretense and spoke how he was doing now. A slow, sure Cajun drawl to every word, dipping it in molasses made for easy listening, but she had to focus to catch a few phrases like "dirty scoundrels" and "not my men." Remy's firm face made it seem like that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"If not your men then who's and why?"

"Y' askin' the wrong man the right questions LeBeau. Maybe the same guy that caused you all those money problems?"

"Non, 'Roro took care of him while I was away."

"Really? Take no offence mademoiselle, but I highly doubt you can take out a mutant that strong."

They shared a quick glance before she asked the inevitable, "What kind of mutant?"

"Oh mon petit tournesol, I couldn't say. All I know is that he ain't from 'round here. But I know who do know."

"Who? Are they close?"

"A Ms. Anna Marie from Mississippi, she say she known the gent most her life."

Remy groaned and rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong with Anna Marie?"

The reddened man chuckled, "Oh, I'll let the white devil tell y' that all on the ride home, eh? Think'll be mo' interestin' that way."

"Remy?"

"Anna…well, Anna and me used to…date. She's a hard person to get to know, and an even harder one to crack, cher. She don't take too kindly to me no more, nor the women I may bring wit' me."

"So I'm not the first of the women you've brought to see her?"

"Ma belle déesse, it's not like it sounds, I swear."

She knew the story. They were hot and heavy and deep and intense for almost five years off and on. He'd like to believe he never loved her, but Ororo knew him sometimes deeper than he knew himself; he loved her alright, he loved her deeply, but there was such resentment and anger around it. She'd cheated, lied, and taken something very important from him, was all he'd ever tell her, but Ororo knew better; there's two sides to every betrayal and always a part of a story that needs to be told, not to say that she was fond of what she'd heard of the woman, but she'd be able to overlook that for the time being.

"Monsieur, do you know where we can find this Ms. Marie? I feel I may have some questions for her," Ororo asked instead, her emotions bubbling and making her eyes white.

"Oh, I quite like this one Remy. I like this one a lot."

* * *

*mon petit tournesol - my little sunflower

*ma belle déesse- my beautiful goddess


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: The Witch and the Rogue

* * *

"Y' sure y' don' need me to go wit' y' baby?" he asked for the fourth time, pulling her hoody collar close around her neck.

"Mmhm. With you there it's liable to become a cat fight," she smiled, steadying her hands over his fretful ones. "I'll be fine, Rem. Don't worry."

He sighed, resting his lips against her forehead, "Can't help but worry 'bout y' love."

"Just so you know, I love how you talk when we're down South," she whispered, standing on slight tip-toe to press her lips to his.

"Flatterie vous ouvre toutes," he smiled, "Now get outta here 'fore I change my mind 'bout lettin' y' leave."

She turned to see him still watching her, his jeans hanging low on his waist, his shoulder against the doorjamb. She blew him a kiss as she straddled the bike and sped off, her white hair like a streak of lightening in her wake. He hoped he was doing the right thing; God forbid the two of them get into a fight. And if Ororo got hurt? He didn't want to think about that. But if he had to bet, all his money would be on the weather witch, as he'd come to realize that as sweet as she was, she was not one to be messed around with.

* * *

"Password pretty lady."

"We all scream for ice cream," she said easily breezing past the bouncer with a sure smile and a pat on the arm.

"Welcome to the Assassin's Guild pretty lady!" he shouted after her, but she was already in, and already on the hunt.

People parted like the Red Sea for her all the way to the back of the club where another rather robust bouncer was waiting in front of a black door. He eyed her up and down lecherously, and had she not been so set on her mission she'd certain give him something to leer at. As it stands, she had bigger fish to fry.

"Who you gotta see back here?"

"I came to see Anna Marie."

He laughed, "You mean Rogue? I don't know, what makes you special enough to see the boss?"

Her eyes flashed a quick white as she shocked him almost painlessly in the chest, "The fact that I could fry your ass right here and now without a second thought. I'm not looking for much trouble, but if you're offering me some sport I'll gladly take it. Now are you going to get out of my way, or am I going to have to fight my way in?"

He quickly stepped aside, opening the door for the feisty little woman. It was dark and smelled of cigar smoke and cheap perfume. Most of the girls were wearing next to nothing, the men smacking and pinching their visible rear ends as they passed by. Except one.

She felt a sudden wave of emotion hit her that she hadn't felt since maybe high school. The woman had long ruby red hair save for a unique, perfectly placed white stripe. Her smoky, evergreen eyes were wide with enjoyment and her lips were painted a flawless red. Ororo felt plain, in her jeans and t-shirt, next to this woman in her clinging green dress and matching elbow gloves. This girl, this woman rather, had seen her man naked. Many, many times. Ororo knew this feeling all too well; she was jealous.

Shaking off the unwelcome ire rising in her spirit, she easily walked over to the woman with a smile, "Hi, my name's Ororo Munroe. You're Anna, right?"

"Depends on what you want from me darlin'," she replied in her Mississippi drawl, pointedly not offering the leggy newcomer a seat.

She'd been hearing about this woman the past few days, but seeing her didn't do any of the stories justice. Apparently she was some sort of mutant, and apparently she'd been running around with a certain gumbo eating Swamp Rat she used to know and love. She couldn't imagine Remy with a woman like this one; she was put together, and sure of herself. She was gorgeous, even in bad lighting and plain clothes. She was the antithesis of Rogue herself. She wasn't sure why, but something about that angered her a little.

" _Betsey, I need a favor…This chick in front of me? Read her like a book."_

"Well I came here from New York…"

_She thinks you're stuck up._

"I was attacked a few days ago by some thugs and they led my boyfriend and I to the wrong person."

_She's wondering if the rumors are true about you and Remy. She doesn't like you for being with him. Somebody's jealous…_

Ororo smiled; at least it wasn't a one way street.

_That's so childish of you. _Betsey's laughed echoed faintly in her head.

"Homme Rouge told me that you may have some information to lead me to the person who did send those men on me."

_She's wondering if you're easy to manipulate._

"Well well, that sounds like quite a problem you got there."

"Would seem so," Ororo replied easily, sitting across from the woman as a waiter arrived.

"Champagne for me. What'll you have sweetheart? Champagne? Wine?"

"I'll have a Tennessee cowboy."

_She's shocked you even know what that is. How do you even know what that is?_

"_I used to be an alcoholic. Now shut up and listen."_

_Not funny._

"I got a few questions of my own for you suga', if you don't mind."

"By all means."

"This boyfriend o' yers? He wouldn't happen to have red eyes would he?"

"Yes he does."

"And he wouldn't happen to be called, at least around here, The White Devil, would he?"

"That he is."

"So I guess it's true; the devil's found himself a witch."

_Oh no she didn't…_

Ororo smiled, "Witch, demon, goddess. It all depends on where you come from. He prefers goddess though."

_She's wondering how difficult it would be to make you eat that table._

"If we're quite through discussing my man, I'd like to know what it is you know about the man who sent those thugs to my house."

"What's in it for me if I do?"

The waiter's abrupt arrival gave Ororo enough time to converse with Betsey about a game plan. Her sister had been delving into the woman's mind and didn't like what she was seeing. A troubled childhood, an inerrant mutant gene, and certain Professor who came into her life at just the pinnacle of disaster…

"What would you want?"

"How 'bout we fight for it?"

"I don't think that'd be the right thing to do here."

"Oh? You scared pretty girl?"

_She's got blocks up I can't get around. They're impressive, bigger than she knows how to build, even if she absorbs some telepathy. I've done all I can from here, so you know what to do. Take her ass down Ororo. _

* * *

*Flatterie vous ouvre toutes – flattery gets you everywhere


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Familiar Fight

* * *

The sparring match between the two of them was not a long one. The headstrong red-head had foolhardily planned the fight on the roof. Under the clear night sky she had no chance against the weather witch. Once the gloves came off, literally and figuratively, she'd known to keep her distance from the Southern belle; her touch was toxic, and with that simple touch she would have the same advantages Ororo had, which would make for a much harder fight.

Rogue charged and tried desperately to touch just an inch of Ororo's skin, but was always pushed away by a quick counter move or a fast gust of wind from nowhere. When Ororo took flight, and rained hail the size of fists down on the woman's head, she knew this wasn't going to go how she wanted it to, but she still kept fighting on. Ororo sighed, her white eyes irked as she lifted the woman more than twenty feet in the air before pulling the wind out from under her. Right before her pretty face smashed into the concrete of the roof, warm air circulated around her, stopping her a few inches from the rough surface.

"Can we finish this now, or must this go on until I grow tired of catching you?"

* * *

_I…I feel like I know her O, but I can't remember her at all. I knew what was going to happen with her skin and I know her personality. Something's not right, O._

"_Don't freak out Bets. I'll figure out all I need from here, so thanks for your help."_

The woman sitting across from her now didn't seem so big or bad. She didn't seem so sure and confident. She looked beat. Tired. Small, huddled in an oversized sweatshirt in a big chair at the local coffeehouse. Ororo tucked her feet under her body, sipping a mug of sweet chamomile tea.

"Whenever you're ready."

After a pause, the emerald-eyed woman cleared her throat. "You know, when I was a li'l girl, I didn't have a daddy. I grew up in a house with ten other kids 'til I was maybe twelve; coincidentally darlin', that's when I had my first kiss. It was with a boy named Bradley Chainney. Trouble with that was, you know, hormones and things like that and my…my powers came outta nowhere and almost killed that poor boy."

She stopped here, taking a quiet sip of lemonade. "Well, after that no home would take me, so I got mixed up with all the wrong kinds of people, and during that time, I met…" Her eyes found Ororo's big blue ones compassionate and still.

"Me and the Swamp Rat," she smiled, "we were never a really solid couple I'ont think. He was always tryin' to be so serious wit' me, but I…just neva took him seriously. I mean how could I? I knew, you know, that he wanted more out of our relationship than I could really give. Durin' that time I met a guy who…who I couldn't hurt with my touch and things got out of hand…"

"But, Anna, what about before then?"

The woman's calm, honeyed tone eased her mind in the right direction. "Before? Before I was…I was goin' to a school up North for gifted kids. Mutant gifted kids."

Ororo's heart beat slowed.

"A man there… he said if I was everythin' he thought I could be, if I was good and steadfast and willin' he'd make me his greatest, brightest pupil ever. He adopted me so my name was-"

"Xavier. If you were to go to his school, and do everything that he knew you were capable of, you'd be an Xavier."

She paused slightly before starting again, "That's right. Anyway, after that, me an' him didn't really see eye to eye. He was always on my ass 'bout one thing or another. I was a bit of a wild spirit; I liked to dance and party, and travel. So one day, I went to my room from classes and he was there with…two girls... They're eyes were…just glassy, you know? Like they weren't there at all. I think we were all around nine or so then. We were friends. And then he sat me down and told me…told me that it wouldn't hurt. Told me not to worry, I'd go right back to where I came from. Last thing he said to me was I wasn't fit to be an Xavier."

_Oh my God._

_Oh, Dad…_

"And when I woke up…I was back where I started. I remembered it all, but like a dream or pieces of it. Until recently he came here and asked around for some guy to…to rack up debt on someone up north. And then when that didn't work he came to me and asked for some o' my people to help him out, but I didn't know who he was until he…put my memories back."

Ororo shook her head unsure of what it was she was feeling, but before she could decipher anything, she spoke. "My father, Charles Xavier, did a terrible thing to you by promising you a family and a life and then putting you back with no apologies. For that, I am so, so sorry, and I know for a fact my sisters…our sisters, Betsey and Jean are too."

"Y-yer one o' them."

"Unfortunately; however I think I came after you. Which, now explains absolutely everything I've been saying for so long."

There was silence between the two of them for awhile, before her tentative rasp broke the silence, "What are your sisters like?"

"Our sisters. If you want, relax your mind, and they'll start to introduce themselves. Don't freak out, it can get overwhelming, especially if they all start apologizing at once."

Anna sat down her tea and stayed still for a second before clearly being barraged by the two elder Xaviers. "Can…I mean do they do this…"

"_All the time, yes they do," _she answered, sipping her tea.

_Not all the time, O._

_Just majority._

"_It's called closed-circuit telepathy. Other telepaths can't hear what we're talking about."_

"_This is mighty weird."_

_You're one of us now Mississippi Spice, you'd better get used to it._

"Anna…did Charles…did he send those people?"

Her newest sister turned her lips inward, before sighing and shaking her head regretfully, "I'm sorry Ororo. I'm really, really sorry."


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks for all the encouragement guys! It means a lot that y'all think so highly of my writing and my character chemistry (as that's probably the hardest part for me). Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen: Interlude

* * *

"Cher…are y' alright?"

Ever since she'd come back from talking to Rogue, she'd been in the bathroom, running the shower. She hadn't said a word, not even in passing. If he listened closely enough he could swear he was hearing her sniffle. He sighed, his forehead banging softly against the door; he knew he shouldn't have let her go alone. Rogue had a way of always poisoning something in people…

He tried the door to find it open and slowly pressed onward into the tiny space. The steam inhibited his sight, but he could see her form clearly in the shower, sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest. Taking off his shirt and jeans he eased in on the opposite side of her in the wide tub. Her hair formed a silver, glistening curtain as the shower mimicked rain and skimmed over her goose-pimpled skin.

Reaching for her tentatively, he slowly pulled her into an embrace, feeling the cool of her skin contrast with the warmth of the water and room. She buried her face in his chest and cried softly, leaving him not knowing what to do but hold her closer and whisper things to her in French. It was breaking his heart to see her this way, and all it would take from her now is a word and he'd stop the world, he'd find the source of her anguish and vanquish it like a knight in black armor.

"Me dire quoi faire, mon amour. Que vous ayez besoin, dites-le moi."

She chuckled through her tears, "I don't know what that even means."

"Means tell me what t' do t' make it better. Let me help y' baby."

She sniffed, leaning her head back against the faux porcelain of the tub, "I wish you could Remy. I really wish you could."

"Tell me what happened so I'll know where t' start," he answered instead, pushing her plastered mane away from her face.

"In awhile, Remy, but…right now I think…I just want…"

He shushed her with a kiss, pulling her closer. "Alright, cher. It's alright."

* * *

He lay next to her in shock a few hours later. It felt like everything he knew was turned upside down, so he could only imagine what was going through her mind. He watched from the bed as she got up and began smoothing her orange-blossom serum into her hair like it was any other day. He knew she was compartmentalizing until she could figure out what to do, but they both knew they didn't have a lot of time until her father found them all.

"Baby…"

"I don't know Remy."

"I didn't even ask y' anythin'."

"You don't have to, I know you. I don't know what I'm going to do or where I'm going to go. Where do you go to hide from one of the most powerful telepaths in the world?"

He wondered how she could still be so regal and composed. He wondered how she was still standing. Truly a goddess among women, the woman he loved. He knew in her mind she was talking to all three of her sisters while simultaneously coming up with an escape plan for the two of them. If her father would have her kidnapped to get her away from Remy, who's to say what else he'd resort to?

Sighing, he stood and came behind her, taking the bottle of oil from her hands and smoothing more of it into her scalp himself. She took a deep breath, relaxing her spine against his chest as he worked silently. Any other man would've run a long time ago, and certainly would've picked up their bags at this point, but here he was. He was always calling her his déesse, his goddess, but she felt now with his sturdy form behind her, resilient and calm in the midst of a firestorm, that he was a god among men, a savior in a sea of disappointing false prophets. He was her strength, her reason to stand when it seemed everything was working to break her down.

"Remy?"

"Oui?"

"I love you."

Her heart skipped a beat as her breath caught in her lungs. Why did she say that? Did she really just say that? How many times had she criticized those idiotic movies where just as the crap hit the fan someone professes their love and then engages in rampant sex? She closed her eyes as she cursed herself in her mind. Remy on the other hand was struck dumb. She loved him? Him? Of all the men in the world she could've said it to, of all the men who'd fall down to hear her say anything remotely close to that, she was saying it to him. And she had that adorable blush under her cerulean eyes, turning her cheeks and nose a cinnamon color. His arms found their way around her waist and gave her an assuring squeeze.

"I love you too, baby."

"And I have a plan."

"By all means."

"We're going to find my Uncle Eric," she turned suddenly, her eyes filled with light and energy.

"Y' never tol' me 'bout an Uncle Eric," he answered, sitting at the foot of the bed.

She straddled his lap easily, her arms slinking around his neck, "I haven't seen him since I was seventeen. He and…Charles had this big falling out and he moved to California."

His grin grew, "Road trip?"

"Most definitely."

"With your sisters?" he asked apprehensively.

She'd momentarily forgotten about them. "I-I don't know. What do you think?"

"It's not 'bout what I want, cher."

"That's such a cop-out."

"Fine, I don't want your sisters involved. What if they get hurt? What if we get slowed down?"

"What about their safety?"

"Has he contacted them suspiciously yet?"

She shook her head, "None except Anna."

He'd momentarily forgotten about her. "Anna…"

"I can't leave her Rem. Not after Charles left her. I refuse."

They locked eyes for a moment; hers were pleading with him for understanding, for acceptance. He sighed and pulled her closer, "Alright baby, alright. She can come with us."

"You have to be the most perfect man in the world," she whispered against his neck, holding close to him.

He kissed her temple softly, lying back with her still in his arms, "Non, I just aim to be perfect for y'."

* * *

*Me dire quoi faire, mon amour. Que vous ayez besoin, dites-le moi – Tell me what to do, my love. Whatever you need, just tell me.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen: The Runaways

* * *

"You don't even know where he is Ororo. How are you just going to fly across the country and look for a man we haven't seen in years?"

"We're not flying, we're riding, and I've got ways Jean," she replied steadily, tossing things to Remy to pack.

"What about your apartment? What about your job?"

"Selling it. Quitting."

Jean's mouth hung open. She was leaving everything, **everything** for some guy? Some guy she'd met barely two years ago? Her mind was reeling. Her baby sister was willing to sacrifice everything she'd ever earned or could hope to earn and for what? Some random sweet-talking thief? Their father had made a mistake, no doubt could be made about that, but was she taking it too far?

Betsey was anxiously bouncing her knees, trying to hold back tears. If Ororo went, what would happen to her now? Admittedly, O had taken a lot of heat from their father over the years which had taken front seat to all of Betsey's minor infractions like dating a dancer and running off to Russia to live her dreams. Ororo was selfless like that, she'd come to realize, and she'd never noticed or maybe she had, but she didn't care enough about her sister's freedom and spirit to do anything about it. And now she was maybe losing her sister to…what? To who? Where was she going? What was she going to do there? Beside herself, she mumbled something about taking a walk before leaving the small hotel room.

"What'll you do for money O?" Anna asked, keeping as much distance as physically possible between her and Remy.

The lovers tossed small smiles at each other, "Oh, a little of this and that. I'm a professional, I'm sure I'll find something."

"Rogue…I mean, Anna. 'Roro and me was wonderin' if y' might like to join us?" Remy asked quietly, holding his lady love's hand in his.

Ororo's eyes shined with pride. Rogue noticed her squeeze his hand in assurance that he'd done the right thing. He didn't want her to come with them, but Ororo did. Why? To keep an eye on her? To build a relationship? What would it be like, on the road with the one who got away and a virtual stranger who was now bonded to her in a twisted but significant way? The way his body relaxed, the way he easily held her hand, she knew exactly what it would be like. Torture. Sure she harbored no ill will towards Remy, and certainly none towards Ororo, but even still there was only so much a girl could take.

"Thanks but no thanks Swamp Rat. Me and my other two sisters have loads of catchin' up to do."

"Are you sure Anna? Remy said you'd been to California a few times and that you may know your way around."

"I'll tell y' what. Y' need me, y' call me, and I'll be there," she replied with a sure smile.

Ororo hugged her and briefly kissed her cheek, leaving some of her essence with her. Rogue suddenly felt every molecule in the air. She felt the hum of the positively charged ions between Remy and O as clear as she'd felt anything before. She smiled a sad smile at her former lover, and he in turn smiled back at her. In a different time, a different place…maybe. But not now, and never again could she entertain such ideas. He nodded his understanding as he pulled a few bags from the bed and started towards the door.

As he left, Rogue finally tuned back in to the conversation, or rather the argument going on between the three of them.

_I'm not letting you leave Ororo._

"_Short of lobotomizing me, there's nothing you can do to stop me. And if you do try to stop me that would make you just as bad as he is to take something from someone for your own benefit."_

_That's not fair! None of this is fair! We haven't even gotten father's side of the story._

"_O's right, Jean. He's spent years coverin' his misbehavin' up, what makes you think he'll come clean now? And even if he does, who's to say he's gonna let us remember that he did?"_

"_Anna can't go back, and neither can I, which is why I asked her to join me and Remy. You and Bets have an advantage that we don't have."_

_Jean, let O go…she deserves this. She deserves this more than you're willing to accept because of your fear and your jealousy._

"_Jealousy? What's Jean to be jealous of me for?"_

Memories suddenly began flashing in all of their minds, shared memories and singular ones from each sister. Jean being passed over for a teaching position that Charles had instead gave Ororo, Ororo crying in her room after Forge had dropped his bomb on her, Betsey ignoring a call from Ororo while in bed with Warren in Russia, Ororo and Charles arguing and arguing and arguing some more, Ororo as a child back in Africa riding tornado speed winds, her laughter echoing along the plains as people watched and cheered for her…

_Jean, we've let her be the big sister for far too long. It's time she got to become her own person separate of us, and separate of Xavier. Anything that happened that made you feel that way was not her fault but Father's. He's been playing you against her subtly since she arrived with us and you know that. You know that Jean. _

Silence between the two of them permeated the entire room, making it pulse.

"Jean."

"He always picked you, O. Always."

"You say that like I wanted to be picked."

"He always thought highly of you."

"He never had to worry about you."

"What am I going to do with you?"

"The same thing you've always done; you're going to let me be me."

Tears fell from the eldest Xavier's eyes as she hugged her head-strong little sister. She had grown up right before her eyes, and it took her until that moment to notice it happened at all. Betsey and Rogue smiled at each other before holding hands, one gloved, and one painted in electric purple nail polish. They would survive this. They'd be stronger for this.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen: Lost in the World

* * *

She wasn't sleeping; more like lounging with her head on his strong back as he sped through the San Francisco traffic as twilight made the city glitter against the horizon. She inhaled deeply, pressing her lips against his neck. He smiled as he sped deeper into the heart of their new home, at least their temporary one. She'd taken off her helmet back in Texas, citing a need for fresh air and immunity to motorcycle crashes; she could catch herself if something were to go wrong, like a cat landing on its feet. In retrospect, what should've taken weeks had taken days with the two of them learning the weaknesses and strengths of the others relative powers; she would propel them through the air like the head of an arrow, while he'd charge the axels of the wheels, making the bike go well above three hundred and fifty miles an hour. Her feel for the environment made it easy for them to maneuver at such speeds, and if there were speed traps, a few charged quarters in the road would always slow down the cops.

They'd been living like she'd always wanted to live; freely. They ate whatever they could afford or could afford to steal, and slept under the stars most nights on plush down blankets. Remy's housebreaking skill made it easy for them to take showers and snoop into other people's lives for entertainment. They met migrant workers, single mothers, sidewalk preachers and high school students, all of them seeming to have good hearts and tough lives. To everyone who had shown them kindness and compassion, Etienne and Munroe left small notes with tokens of appreciation behind. A diamond ring, a few hundred dollars, an iPod…They were gypsies, robin hoods, the two of them, and it felt more right than anything she'd ever known.

For his part, he couldn't remember a time when he'd enjoyed living this way. He couldn't imagine sharing these small but significant parts of himself with any other person but Ororo. He'd had the fleeting idea as they passed through Las Vegas to marry her, but he knew she deserved more than that; a quickie wedding with a stolen ring didn't suit her. He'd shocked himself thinking that way; never had he thought to marry a woman before her, but one night, after streaking the sky with red-tinted lightening, he just knew. He never wanted to be with anyone else. Just her, the earth-bound goddess with mischief in her eyes and soul in every step. As she hurled them through the dazzling town, her eyes wide with excitement and life, her laugh teasing the wind, he vowed to himself, to her, to make that a permanent feeling in her heart.

* * *

She laid across the luxurious king sized bed of their new apartment in a long t-shirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun as she watched an old movie on TV. He, on the other hand, was handling work with Henri via chat while simultaneously searching through an extensive SFPD listing of mutant offenders for Ororo's uncle. Nobody would peg him for a techy, which is probably why he was so good at it, stealthily hacking networks, planting viruses and taking useful information. He smiled as she sang along, patting her backside soothingly while he scanned and scanned for Erik Lehnsherr, Deus Maximus and any other code names her elusive uncle could possibly go by.

By what he could tell, the guy was a regular mutant revolutionary. If he weren't so extreme, Remy could quite picture them being acquaintances. For a one trick pony though, Magneto had a vast following spanning continents of willing and able soldiers waiting on his command to start what would be an earth-shattering war against human-kind. Remy had no problems with humans, he in fact found them to be more compassionate and kind to him than his own kind would be, although just like with the mutant extremists there were exceptions.

"Found him. Says he's staying on some dock house on the shore."

"Doesn't sound like Uncle Erik."

"What's he like?"

"Like Father, except a bit cooler and more…detached I suppose. Intelligent, militant and practical. A dock house? Doesn't sound like him at all."

"Maybe he's changed cher," he replied easily, signing off his laptop and climbing into bed behind his woman.

"For our sake, I hope not too much."

* * *

As Remy lounged on the beach a hundred or so feet from the dock house, Ororo knocked plaintively on the old wooden door. "Use the other door, dear niece."

She looked around for the disembodied voice and found a speaker box and security camera to her upper right. She smiled and shook her head as she walked around the little porch to find a wooden trap door with concrete stairs descending down. She tossed a glance back at Remy to see him renting a surfboard for an early morning romp in the waves and grinned. She'd be fine, and he'd be safe.

Descending the stairs, it became more and more obvious that her uncle hadn't changed much, but just became a little more laid back and stealthy. Portraits of mutant greats hung against the concrete walls above the handrails and when she finally made her way down, she let out a chuckle at seeing his likeness above the roaring fireplace in front of metallic chairs and a coffee table. No, he hadn't changed at all.

"To what do I owe this abrupt visit, my favorite niece?"

"Uncle Erik, should I exchange pleasantries first?" she asked instead, turning to the tall, lean and graying man behind her.

He laughed, "Only if you find them necessary."

She walked into his open arms and remembered his embrace, his scent of cigars and patchouli and iron. He held her at arms' length and looked her over, noting her healthy glow and slightly tanned skin. Her hair was clean and healthy, longer than he remembered, and she'd filled out more if that was even possible from the last time he saw her. His littlest niece was all grown up now, and it made him beam with pride.

"How's your father?"

"I wouldn't know. That's kind of why I'm here now."

"Oh, Charles…What did the old blowhard do this time?"

"In addition to hiding Anna from Jean, Betsey and I, he attempted to have my boyfriend arrested or worse for debts he didn't incur. When that didn't work he tried to have me kidnapped."

"You've been through a lot then, child. The least of which is yet to come, as I'm sure you know. Have your other sisters, save for the rogue one, stopped whining long enough to offer you assistance?"

She smiled as she sat in front of the fireplace, manipulating the environment as she used to as a child to sit on a cushion of air. He sat across from her, levitating a metal chess board from his expansive bookshelf and setting it in front of them.

"Let's figure this all out then. What does your father have against this young man?"

"He thinks Remy is bad for his image."

"Are you sure that's it? It's not like Charles to be so short sighted, even when it comes to his emotions."

"I can't think of any other reason, aside from the fact he could lead me to Rogue."

"And what importance does that have to you?"

"I feel betrayed. I feel like everything I've been saying about him all my life has been validated in a single moment."

"It's never wise to fully trust a telepath of his caliber, nor that attention-seeking Phoenix sister of yours."

She smiled, "You're never going to get over Jean choosing father are you?"

"A man's pride is a very strong, resilient thing Apricot."

She laughed, "You haven't called me Apricot since I was seven."

"You hadn't allowed me to. Of course you remember how you came to your father that day so long ago in upstate New York, but do you perchance remember what happened after?"

"Of course. I pick-pocketed him, he brought me back to the Academy and sat me in front of you and…"

"And…?"

"That's all I remember," she replied, her eyes confused. Her memory had become hazy over that part over the years. "What did happen?"

"When you were seven, Charles saw a vast amount of potential in you to be greater than any pupil he'd ever had. You had a unique genetic predisposition to telepathy as well as your inerrant powers. If cultivated properly, you would be on par with the world famous Jean Grey, if not even more powerful as you can also control atmosphere at a molecular level. The ice to her fire so to speak."

She watched as he made his first chess move, "What does that have to do with this?"

"When you were seven, I wanted to take you back to Africa, have you blessed by a shaman as you told Charles you wanted, and take you around the world to cultivate all your powers. Your father," he grimaced distastefully at the word, "wanted you to be…less than who you were meant to be and kept you locked in your own mind while he placed blocks around your telepathy. Over time they'd release themselves allowing you to do things that Jean or Betsey had been doing since birth, but to you it was just ordinary as you were growing up with them. He basically stunted your growth."

"So you're telling me I'm a telepath?"

"Yes, I'm telling you that you would have been the most powerful telepath in the world had he not crippled you so, and if you so chose, you can be now. He stopped you from reaching your potential because he foresaw something happening between you and the Phoenix later in life."

She felt as if she'd been hit in the chest with a truck. "He…so…" she sighed, her anger turning her eyes that opaque white, "What did he see?"

He steepled his fingers below his chin, "He said that if I took you there would be a massive war among the humans and the homo superiors. You'd be my ally, Jean would be his and the world would collapse into despair and whatever the hell else. Point being, he wouldn't let me take you, though over the years I tried to take either one of you. No one man should have that much power; haven't you ever wondered why he and your sisters were telepaths and you seemingly weren't? Haven't you noticed how you read people's energies and minds simultaneously? Or has that all been lost to you until just this second?"

"Why are you telling me all this now, Uncle? What significance does it have?"

"You're the telepath," he replied smiling as she toppled his king, "You tell me."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: Eden Disrupted

* * *

He pursed his lips into a perfect O and blew warm air across her moist skin, up her spine and to her neck, laying soft, tender kisses, "Try again, 'Roro. Y' gotta get this right before the nights over."

She sighed, reveling in the feel of the sun on her naked skin, but complying with his gentle encouragement. She sat up on her knees focusing on the arrow he shot into a tree earlier in the day as part of her training. She'd have to remove it without weather, but with her mind.

Since they left her uncle's bungalow, they'd been working on their weaknesses in a small cabin in the forests of Colorado barely touched by humanity. The grass was lush and thick underfoot, the trees high and sturdy. Small animals like rabbits and squirrels had taken to staying around as Ororo had taken a liking to feeding them. The days seemed shorter, and filled with challenges as they became a modern day Adam and Eve.

"You first," she smiled back at him, pulling his flannel shirt around her body.

Her hair fell over the right side of her face, but her eyes were teasing and mischievous. Her full lips were half smiling at him as she watched him intently. Taking an arrow from the side of the house, he focused on a target a few meters away. She admired his form as he stayed perfectly still, sweat glistening across his broad shoulders and down his back. In a perfectly Southern show of pageantry, he closed his eyes and released the string.

She felt the air around the tip peel back and the solid THUNK! of it hitting the tree made her laugh. He held his hands up; the show wasn't over. He took another arrow and aimed directly after the first one, but she could feel him charging it with his energy. Not only did that arrow cut through the one before it, but it struck clearly to the middle of the tree.

He grinned as she squealed and clapped with delight, shaking his head and motioning at the top of the tree in front of her. He watched as her eyes showed disappointment; she hadn't been able to move things yet. Too far from her grasp, they would quiver but never bend to her will. Remy hadn't given up hope yet; he kneeled behind her, resting his hands on her hips and charging her body. He could feel her spine lengthen and her lungs expand as he leaned closer.

"Y' can do this baby. I got faith in y'. Be a good girl and get that arrow for Daddy."

She purred and smiled, focusing once again on her task. They'd been in the woods for four months, determined not to face the world until they'd faced themselves first, but damn if this one part wasn't putting a cramp in her plan. Remy had learned to manipulate static and turn molecules to toxins. Apparently he had hunter in his blood as he'd become a perfect marksman with knives, arrows, and of course cards. They'd had hand to hand combat almost daily, bruising and soothing each other by the day's end. But that freaking arrow in the tree was a constant reminder that she still hadn't reached her ultimate potential.

Quiver as it might, the arrow wouldn't budge and she sighed with disappointment, "Damnit…"

"Nous allons la conquérir demain, je promets," he replied, lightly tugging her hair. "Until then, I'll race you to the showers."

She shook her head, smiling slightly behind her curtain of hair, "Can I have a head start?"

* * *

She watched as the moonlight glistened off his skin as he shadow boxed in the night. His hair had grown longer and he had it tied back into a ponytail as his bo staff struck tree after tree with heavy, knick-inducing blows. She pulled her blanket tighter around her body as she watched amazed. She always wondered why he didn't get bored with her. She never thought she was much different from anybody else, but to hear him speak of her, you'd think she was the only girl in the world. She wondered if that's how she sounded to him, too.

A feeling suddenly grasped her heart like anxiety. Someone was coming and Remy could feel it too as he stopped, the moon beaming off his shoulders. A sudden flash of red light threw him a few feet and into a wide trunk. She gasped and quickly pulled on a jacket and shorts, racing to the back of the house in time to see Remy toss a charged pinecone into the intruder's face. As the man tried his hand with Remy, her anger rose and the sky opened on her command; if Remy wouldn't take him down, she certainly would.

An abrupt shove pushed her back into the house and into an interior wall. The man wasn't alone; as lightening flashed across the sky, she saw a flash of red-hair and a green body suit. Her anger grew as she charged at Jean with full force behind her, but her sister was too fast and held her in mid-air.

"I'm sorry Ororo; this has nothing to do with you."

Their attention was diverted as Scott charged and charged at Remy, punching him hard in the ribs and kidneys until he fell to his knees, his chest heaving for air. Ororo's fear rose and pressed hard against her ribs as she fought against Jean's constraints; she knew without a doubt what they'd been sent there to do. If she couldn't get out in time, they'd surely kill him.

Jean's eyes were trained on Remy, keeping him down, deprived of oxygen and prone to a hit from Scott. Ororo's hands trembled as her eyes widened, lightning screeching above their heads. Her scream was enough to draw their eyes to her as she broke from Jean's hold, and pushed with all her might against the atmosphere, roughly knocking Jean meters back. The sound of trees snapping and thunder touching down exploded in their eardrums, disorienting the intruders in the flashes of light. Her white eyes trained on Scott, she lifted him feet in the air and pushed him back further and further until she couldn't see him anymore, before slamming him into the earth.

She turned her eyes to Jean who stood shocked at her sister's anger and power.

_Ororo, who did this to you? What happened to you?_

"_Shut up…"_

Ororo rained lightning and hail down on her sister's head furiously, her telekinesis pulling and pushing at the elder Xavier. Jean's protective bubble was withstanding Ororo's lightening strike after strike, her energy pushing against Ororo's own wide area of protection to no avail. Her anger rose and her eyes went from white to red, with it the lightning's energy surged and sparked pink against the protective shield, penetrating it enough for Remy to reach in with his unearthed mutation of manipulation of molecules; he was suffocating her while Ororo made it impossible for her to retreat.

_Cher, what do y' wanna do wit' her?_

"_I'm going to kill her."_

_Mon déesse, ne les laissez pas vous en faire un monstre. I'm safe; release her. _

The force with which he said that made her relent and release her hold, allowing him to let go as well. She was visibly shaking with fury but took a deep breath, her eyes back to the wintery white of before. She approached the gasping deserter and kneeled before her.

"_He just saved your life. Remember that when your father sends you after me again, you traitorous witch."_

_What has Uncle Erik done to you, O? All father wants is our family back. He wants you back-_

"_Charles Xavier is weak and manipulative to send you here. Uncle Erik was right; there is no other way with some people."_

_I'quadi, come home. I-I did this for us. For you, and Betsey, Rogue and me. And father too. We need you. _Her eyes were pleading and wet with unshed tears, but the weather goddess remained unmoved.

"_You did this for you. You wanted to be Daddy's little hero, you just couldn't help yourself."_

She stood tall above the red-head, her white mane streaked with mud, but her face still beautiful in her rage, "_Jean, if you're still here by the time Remy falls asleep, I can't promise you that I'll let you live."_

With no other words to say, Ororo turned her back on her sister and started back towards the house. Remy stood on the porch, nursing his bruised ribs when she had the thought, breaking the arrow from the tree and bringing it to levitate in front of him. His eyes met her sad ones as she passed by him silently into the house, not wanting to look at the damage she was forced to cause or answer the questions that she knew were now in her wake.

* * *

*Nous allons la conquérir demain, je promets – We'll win tomorrow, I promise.

* Mon déesse, ne les laissez pas vous en faire un monstre._ - _My goddess, do not let them make you into a monster.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Break

* * *

He was awakened to find her bandaging his hands silently, her hair tied in a ponytail resting on her shoulder. He knew she knew he was awake now, but she didn't make a move to say anything or even to look at him. Instead, she quietly bustled out of the room, leaving him momentarily to bring in his favorite breakfast of French toast, grits and sausages. He knew without asking what she was feeling.

"Don't, before you say anything. It's all my fault. It's…I never should've brought you with me. If I would've just…left you back home, maybe none of this would've-"

"Chut. Y' won't go on blamin' yourself fo' this love."

"How can I not? Look at you Remy," she answered, pulling down his sheets so he could see the damages caused him.

He was pretty beat up; burns and bruises ranged from his chest to his calves, and he knew he'd be feeling it all once his body warmed up, but he also knew that what his lover was feeling inside had to be worse than any bodily torment he could go through. He reached up and lightly stroked her slightly bruised face, examining her sky blue eyes. She'd been crying. A lot.

He pulled himself up through his pain, despite her protesting and pulled her into his arms. "Once upon a time, there were these two boys. They grew up so close, cousins they were, but more like brothers to one another."

She snuggled closer as his raspy morning voice tugged her into the story of him and his cousin Etienne. Kidnapped from their homes and sold into a children's militia, the two plotted a crazy escape. Coincidentally, the escape was when Remy first used his kinetic energy for anything other than impressing girls, as he took out the eye of the assailant. The only way out of there was to dive into the ocean and swim ashore. Etienne couldn't swim, and didn't make it.

"For a long time cher, a very long time I blamed myself. What if I'd kept him afloat? What if we maybe tried to get away the next day? What if…maybe…all that kept addin' up to in my head was 'Why me?' And then I met you…"

"Oh, Remy don't…"

"I met y' and I loved y' from the moment I laid eyes on y' in your shorts and suspenders, looking like the hottest nerd I'd ever seen."

She giggled, shaking her head, "I did not look like a nerd."

"A sexy nerd t' be sure, but a nerd nonetheless. And ever' moment since then I know I've been forgiven because I been blessed t' have y'. Now y' can go on and feel sorry 'bout what happen to ol Remy last night, though I been beat up much worse than this before, and y' can feel sorry for yourself and for your sister, or y' can be who you've always been destined to be, and y' can stand strong."

"I'm tired of being told to stay strong all the time," she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't say y' had to be the strongest, cause then what'd y' need me for?" he grinned, reaching around her for a link of sausage.

* * *

Meditating in the river is where he found her later in the day. He called it meditating, she called it swimming naked, but it had pretty much the same effect on her as meditation would. She was happy here, communing with nature, townsfolk and their children, and him. She'd been offered a teaching job in town for English and history which she wanted to accept, and he had been offered a job at the local bar. They were forming a little life here, and now with Jean's interference he knew she was rethinking everything.

Sitting at the edge of the stream he waited for her to come up; she could stay down there much longer than humans could. He watched as her shock of white hair trailed behind her as she sliced through the water with the fish. She turned and darted just as they did, and the more he watched the more he became amazed by her.

"_You really shouldn't be out of bed."_

_Y' really shouldn't be scarin' the fishes like that._

He felt warmth in his heart; she was smiling. _"What do you want LeBeau?"_

_I wanna know what you're thinking._

"_I'm thinking that fishing isn't as hard as people make it."_

_Cher…_

"_I'm wondering if we should go somewhere else."_

_Non._

"_Remy, we can't stay here."_

_We live here 'Roro._

"_We were attacked here."_

_We'll be attacked wherever we go. Runnin' ain't gonna solve your family problem, I told y' that from the get go._

"_You can stay here, but I'm not."_

_Stop being such a wimp Munroe._

"_Excuse me?"_

_I don' repeat myself. If last night was any indication, y' can take damn good care of yourself without running like a scared ass pansy. Y' better than that. At least I think y' are. And if y' run, y' might as well just keep runnin'._

"_I'm leaving."_

_Y' do whatever y' think y' gotta do cher. I'll be at home if y' change your mind. _

* * *

"He didn't even help me pack, he just sat there reading and watching me out of the corner of his eye. Didn't even say goodbye. I could just…" she harrumphed, dropping her bags on Betsey's guest bed.

"He told you he wasn't coming you silly broad, what'd you think? He'd just keep following you to the ends of the earth?"

Their eyes met and Betsey laughed out loud, "And they say I'm the romantic. Ro, a dude can only take so much. And Remy? You've been dragging him here and there and everywhere; the man's tired!"

"He said he loved me!"

"What's love got to do with him calling you a pu-"

"He didn't call me that! He just said I was acting like a wimp."

"Well you are. Look at yourself. Laid out on your sister's guest bedroom floor, with red eyes and messy hair over a man who loves you but is tired of chasing you. Baton Rouge, San Francisco, Colorado and now back to New York? Stop being so damn flighty, that's my job."

Ororo rubbed her tired eyes, unpacking her bags telekinetically to Betsey's surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm unpacking, cow. I told you I'd be here for your last recital with the company and I am."

"Don't play stupid; when did you learn to do that?"

"I've been doing it for the past few days."

"You visited Uncle Lehnsherr didn't you?"

"I did."

Betsey rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, he feels the same way about you."

"Jean didn't say anything about seeing you when she was down there."

"Yes, I'm sure she wouldn't."

Before Betsey could ask any more questions, Anna traipsed into the room with a platter of cookies, ice cream and cake.

"Somebody needs a pick-me-up, huh Ro?"

"Got that right. Pass the Chips Ahoy."

"Rogue, tell her she's being stupid about this whole Remy thing."

Ororo bugged her eyes at the brunette behind Anna's back, shaking her head. _"He was her boyfriend first dummy! Why would you tell her to say that?"_

"Aw, shut up Ro," the red-head retorted, turning her head to smirk at her. "The Swamp Rat can be pretty damn ornery when he wanna be. Downright resistant to anything y' gotta say, but when y' stop, shut up and think about it for a minute y' find out he was actually onto somethin'. Now, y' wanna man that takes y' as y' are but puts his foot down or y' want a whipped dog sniffin' after y' everywhere y' go?"

"Shut up Rogue and pass the damn cookies."

* * *

*Chut – Hush


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry for the super long wait you guys. School started really kicking butt and then I got a huge roadblock of writer's block but now...*drum roll*

Chapter Twenty-One: Dancing in the Dark

* * *

_I'm sorry for what your sister did to you Ororo. It was not right, and I did not ask her to do it._

"_How can I believe a word you say anymore Dad?"_

_Because I have accepted what you have been saying all along. It's not that I meant to suffocate you darling; I just want what's best for you. Perhaps I was blinded by what I thought would be best as I'm sure your uncle Erik kindly pointed out._

"_As Jean is so competitive and Betsey was so insecure I could see how a third tele-kid around would make things more difficult."_

_Difficult for me, maybe, but I now realize that I've held you from being who you were always meant to be, and I apologize for that…as for Jean…Jean's been acting strangely lately. I can't put my finger on just what it is, but if you could keep an eye out for her-_

Ororo snickered, shaking her head as the lights went down for Betsey's final performance with the New York Ballet Company. Just as the music began, Jean and Scott sat next to Xavier, tossing furtive glances at the wind-rider. Her eyes were hard and flashed white anger for a second before she focused again on the stage.

"_So where's your low-life boyfriend?"_

Ororo sent a small, electric impulse into Jean's brain, her eyes trained on her lithe, older sister flying across the stage. She'd be damned if that witch ruined Betsey's last dance with her snide and insecure comments. Maybe she had it wrong. Maybe Jean was always the insecure one but just hid it well under her overachieving and brown-nosing. All Ororo knew was she refused to be less than what she was always meant to be to placate Jean any longer.

"_I'm not surprised he's tired of you already. Forge was tired with you after a month or two. Maybe that's why he started coming to see me."_

Before Ororo could strike her down, she felt as if there was an invisible wall between them. Charles used to do the same thing to them when they were younger and would fight; she knew better to push it and instead stared at her father's profile.

"_She's baiting you. Don't let her."_

_Is what she said true?_

Charles sighed, turning to finally catch his youngest daughter's eyes. _"He came clean to me after it had been going on a year. I told him to end it with the both of you or I would…make life a bit more difficult for him."_

Anger, shame and so many other emotions flooded her mind, but she still leaned over and gave her father a tentative kiss on the cheek. _Thank you for telling me Dad._

He smiled sadly at her, _"It's what good fathers do."_

* * *

She was never one to be a wall flower, but she shied away from attention tonight; it was Betsey's night to shine. Her flowing, backless dress was a perfect white against her ebony skin. Her make-up was dramatic, but light and her jewelry was high class yet understated. She was fascinating to the men, so like bees to honey they came, swarming in droves around her. She smiled and politely decline invitation after invitation; these men didn't do it for her.

That was what she was trying to explain graciously to the man getting too close to her now. He was tall and lean with sea-foam eyes, but his attitude was deplorable; he talked to her as if all he'd already seen her naked and it unnerved her. In any case, Ororo was not feeling it at all and was seconds from letting the Brooklyn in her come out. She'd forgotten how it felt to be pawed over by men, but the last week and a half away from Remy surely did refresh her memory.

"I have a boyfriend, Mr. Adams, and I'd greatly appreciate you walking away now."

"But I don't see him," the man replied, smiling lecherously. "If I don't see him, he must not be too concerned about leaving you here."

"Au contraire homme, I care greatly for my femme."

She turned to see him standing behind her with his hands in his tux's pocket, his eyes intent on the presumptuous man. A smile broke across her face as her arms encircled his neck. His sturdy shape and manly scent made her feel at home again, and as his arms wrapped around her waist she forgot what she was upset about; it all seemed so stupid.

"Hi baby," she whispered, pulling slightly away.

"Bonjour mon amour," he mumbled against her lips, one of his hands grazing lazily along her backside.

* * *

"Don't y' have somewhere to be homme? Me and my fille are tryin' to have a moment here."

They were a spectacle the two of them; he in his tux and she in a gown on roller skates. 90s R&B music thumped as children and teens glided easily around them. Ororo, for one, fit right in with them except for the whole gown thing. Remy however, was at a disadvantage on the skates, but her laughter was reward enough for his minor awkwardness.

She hated functions and after-parties; they were always so predictable and stuffy. What she loved about Remy was the ease with which he understood her; one look at her face at that party and he swept her away for a night on the town…so to speak. She undid her hair and used the pins to tie her dress into a short set kind of ensemble and was smooth cruising while poor Remy held onto the rails for dear life. She held back a laugh as she came to a stop in front of him, extending her hands to take his.

"Aw, cher no. I'm gonna look like a punk if I let y' lead me 'round."

"As opposed to what you look like now?" she smirked, taking his left in her right.

"It's my technique, cher. It works for me."

"It's so not working for you," she grinned, pulling him further away from the handrail as couple skate began.

In the middle of the rink, on shaky feet no less, he tried slow dancing with his woman in front of a packed building of people. A spotlight illuminated them and a heart-shaped disco ball was dropped. Perfect date didn't even begin to cover it for Ororo; she'd never been allowed to do these kinds of things as a teen as she always had more important things to do. It was like he was giving her pieces of her life, what it could've been and what it would be, in small doses every day. As she lay her head on his shoulder, she silently promised to never be hasty with him again…and to stop running. If that bitch wanted a fight, she knew exactly who could bring the rain.


	22. Chapter 22

A fluffy moment before I can conjure up some drama ;) Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Warmth

* * *

"It's not just about being interesting Tara; a good paper is well-thought out and easily understood," she said, turning back to the whiteboard.

"But Ms. Munroe, if it's not interesting none of that grammar stuff even matters," Tara retorted, flipping her straight blonde hair over her shoulders.

"Grammar always matters. Tamar, can you explain why grammar is always important?"

Tamar Smith was a quiet student, but one of the bests so far. Her papers were always early and written as if with the knowledge of someone twice her age which sometimes got her picked on, which she didn't seem too concerned with. What stood out most about her was her vibrant, crimson hair and blue eyes, deep set and wise in clear mahogany skin. Ororo had a feeling she was a mutant, but wasn't pushing the subject.

"You lose a lot in interpretation if your grammar is incorrect."

"And with that, class dismissed. Papers are due next class and believe me, I know when you do them the hour before," she called after them, shaking her head slightly.

"Ms. Munroe, can I ask you a question?" Tamar quietly inquired, putting her finished paper on Ororo's desk.

"Of course Tamar, what can I help you with?"

"My progress report says that you think I should be four levels up in my education…"

"I sincerely believe that you're wasting your talents here, yes."

"But…I have nowhere to go Ms. Munroe, and even more, nobody to help me get there. My foster parents are already overwhelmed as it is and once I'm eighteen I'm technically…"

She faltered there, her eyes hesitant of saying too much. Ororo smiled reassuringly, resting her hip against the desk. "You've got an advocate in me Tamar. Friday after class we'll go over some forms and see what I can't conjure up for you. Deal?"

Her smile lit up her whole face, "Yes, that'd be great. Thanks Ms. Munroe!"

She watched as the girl bounded out of the room; it was true that she was meant for more than this town and she knew it. She just needed someone else to know it too, and it gave Ororo pride at the fact she was the one to see it. Pride. Ororo hadn't felt proud of anything in a very long time, and now that she was reaching a comfortable stride in her life, she wondered how long the feeling would last. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that something was coming; she couldn't decipher if it were good or bad, but the fact remained that it was on it's way.

"Y' all set here baby?"

She smiled over her shoulder at him, nodding. "All set."

Tossing her bag over his shoulder and taking her hand, he led her from the building and onto the bike. He'd been exceptionally quiet lately, but she was never one to push; if he wanted and when he was ready, she knew he'd eventually voice what was on his mind. Until then, and as always, his presence was calm and soothing to her spirit, so she didn't mind his quiet much. As the bike roared through town though, she couldn't help but be curious.

* * *

He was as nervous as a sinner in church, and he knew she could sense it. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he served dinner, trying to formulate words in his mind to break his self-imposed silence, but could come up with nothing. Reading his anxiety, she took the lead and talked about her classes and her day in town. He nodded while marveling at her; how did she do it? How did she manage to make him so nervous while soothing him simultaneously? How did she maintain such a coolness to her, as if she couldn't feel his nerves?

Bandit, their new puppy, was scratching at the back door and as anticipated, Ororo went to let him in. In the few moments he had while she was gone he set up a small altar on her empty dessert plate and turned on their song, "Always and Forever" by Heatwave. As she sat, taking notice of the small velvet box next to a chocolate cupcake on the plate she felt as if she would faint. Opening the box, silver and sapphire sparkled at her in a classic, simple setting.

Her eyes met his as he moved next to her, slipping the ring from the box and onto her delicate finger. "I've wanted to do this since Vegas. I've wanted y' to be mine and…and I don't know why it took me so long to say so. I love y' 'Roro, and want to make y' my wife. So…will y'? Will y' marry me?"

She'd never dreamed of being someone's…She'd resigned herself to being the spinster sister so long the thought had rarely crossed her mind but there he was, asking her earnestly to be his, to be with him forever. She took a deep breath, realizing she'd forgotten to breathe for a few seconds before laughing and shaking her head.

"Is this what you've been so worried about? Of course I'll marry you!" she replied finally, springing into his arms.

* * *

Snow flurries touched their heated skin and the last rumblings of thunder softly rocked their cabin as she finally fell into a satisfied slumber. His pale, scarred chest held her sleeping head, her hand resting softly against his torso. The ring winked up at him in the growing moonlight, and he grinned, stroking her hair and neck. He worried and fretted for months over that thing. What would suit a goddess of the earth?

When he saw it, he didn't immediately think "Ororo," but all the others he saw were so audacious and obnoxiously showy. She wasn't either of those things; she was calm and gentle, delicate but strong. Beautiful and utterly complex, but slightly flawed and simple too. Yes, he knew he'd chosen right when her cerulean eyes landed on it, and now his worries about that were over.

Now came the wedding nerves. The family nerves. The impending father nerves…He groaned, feeling a headache coming on. No, he wouldn't worry about all that. He'd worry about being the best he could for his future wife, and know that whatever came of that would be the best he could possibly do and hoped that by his love, everything would be accomplished. With no further wishes to think he pulled her even closer, reveling in the chill of the snow and the warmth of her body and soul.


End file.
